


The Dark Lords' Pawn

by Jenn0509



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Biting, Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Time, Good Severus Snape, Growing Up, Light Dom/sub, Magic-Users, Manipulative Dumbledore, Manipulative Gellert Grindelwald, Minor Albus Dumbledore/Gellert Grindelwald, Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Prophecy, Rape Recovery, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Tension, Sibling Love, Soul Bond, Soul-Searching, Vaginal Sex, Wall Sex, Wandless Magic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-14
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2018-10-18 15:52:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 15
Words: 67,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10620162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenn0509/pseuds/Jenn0509
Summary: Miranda was Tom Riddle's beloved twin before Grindlewald obliviated him and took her to Nurmenguard to raise; guarded from the outside world and ignorant of the growing darkness.In 1944, however, a spell trapped her and kept her hidden for her own protection. Released in 1997, Miranda set out to find her brother, but found a certain Chosen One first.Harry doesn't understand why he's drawn to Miranda, and when he does, it might be too late.





	1. Miranda Merope Riddle

**Author's Note:**

> This is a rewrite, so if you've seen that, it really is me editing and reposting! Once this is done, I'll delete the old version. This version will have better writing and a lot of added scenes and details!
> 
> Enjoy!

"Miranda, please pay attention." Gellert Grindlewald said, teeth grinding, only barely keeping his voice calm.

The girl looked back up in his direction, face wide eyed and ernest as she often was, "I'm sorry, Papa, it's just...today."

He sighed, nodding listlessly, "It's the thirtieth of December." He knew where she was going with this before she spoke another word. "Miranda." He reproached.

She made the awful noise she normally did when something displeased her. "Papa, it's Tom. His birthday is tomorrow." She looked up at him, her sightless hazel eyes filling with tears as she pleaded, "Might we rescue him now?"

It had been two years since he had taken the girl from her brother. Two years since he’d gained the daughter he’d never known he’d wanted. He had simply needed a successor, and using a spell to track Salazar Slytherin's bloodline had seemed the most direct method to find the location of a suitable one. His spell had led him to Wool’s Orphanage where, instead of one heir, he had found twin children who both carried Salazar Slytherin’s blood in their veins. Gellert could still recall finding them vividly, and how Miranda, his little surprise, had hidden behind her brother:

Mrs. Cole, the matron of the orphanage had nodded instantly when he’d asked after anything out of the ordinary, “Odd happenings you say? Yes. Must say there are, only sometimes, mind you.” Her eyes grew distant for a moment before she smiled weakly at him, “I’m sorry, are you looking to adopt?”

As much as it pained him, he was, of a sort. It was great luck that his spell had led him to an orphanage, and the odd happenings must be centered around a child for any such mischief from an employee would surely have seen them sacked. It would be possible that the darkness would need to be fanned in the child in question, nurtured, and that might not be possible unless he took it with him. He spun a tale to the woman, “I’m a man of patience, but I’m getting on in my years and the prospect of having a child of my own is dimmer than it ever was. Is there a particular child that the oddness seems to follow?”

Without another word to him, the woman had walked to the door of her office and bellowed into the hall, "Tom! Miranda! Someone here to see you!"

The boy had come in cautiously, watching Gellert's every move. "What do you want?" He asked, his green eyes glancing for an escape route.

"I simply want to ask you if you know anything about your past." Gellert said calmly.

"Our mother died right after Randa was born." The boy had answered shortly, the shape that must have been the little girl still cowering behind him.

She had been right to fear him of course, they both had. "Who is this 'Randa' you speak of?" He'd goaded, hoping to at least get to look at what he had to work with.

Slowly, she had stepped from behind her twin, their hands falling to their sides, and a soft bell like voice emanated from her slight frame, "I am, sir." She at least had manners, Gellert had noted dryly. She was also blind, it was obvious when he noticed how she didn't exactly look at him, but rather off to his right side, her hazel eyes unblinking.

She was a pretty little thing, if you liked children that is, with long dark brown hair, while her brother's was black. She and her brother shared the same basic facial features, and the same pale skin. The most he could tell was that they were guarded, suspicious creatures, and the girl quickly retreated back to Tom's side where he reclaimed her hand tightly. A tiny spark of magic flared between the two, invisible to all but the three magical individuals in the room. Yes, the twins were magical, without a doubt.

The two were also very close, something that Gellert planned to use to his advantage. "What are your full names?" He asked, trying to look at them kindly.

The boy set his jaw, refusing to answer, but the girl spoke for him, "He's Thomas Marvolo Riddle, and I'm Miranda Merope Riddle." She swallowed once before asking, "If I may ask. What is your name, sir?"

"Gellert Grindlewald, pet." Already, a plan had formed in his mind, the girl simply could not be his heir, and as attached as the boy was to her, he would not leave his sweet sister behind to embrace his dark heritage. Little Miranda was Tom’s lifeline into the world of the innocent.

"This will just not do." Gellert thought, startled that he had spoken the words aloud.

"Pardon?" The little girl asked.

"Nothing." He had said. It was a simple solution, the girl would have to go.

He stood, staring at them, contemplating ways to dispose of the girl when the booming voice of a teenaged boy had filtered into the office. Miranda stiffened, letting loose a gasp as her eye widened in fright, just as darkness filled her brother’s face, “You’re alright, Randa.”

“Hush, you two.” The matron snapped. A quick glance into her mind revealed more than he could handle. Like Ariana, Miranda had been violated. Tom had killed the boy who’d done it, but no one could prove it, the matron just instinctual knew he had. Gellert knew better. No one had avenged Ariana, but Tom’s justice had been swift, that was the only reason the little girl in front of him hadn’t ended up just like Ariana. It was the darkness in Tom that had saved her, but the fear remained because not everyone who had participated in her abuse was dead. Something deep inside Gellert, long buried, forced him to make a change to his plans.

He’d gone back to the orphanage several times over the following weeks, before bringing Miranda home and making sure her brother would never ask after her.

Miranda just had to ask about him again though, the silly girl was always pining for her brother. He'd hoped vainly she'd forget, they had just hardly been nine years old when he had separated them. He was apparently less at ease with children than he’d hoped, which wasn’t a terrible stretch. His thoughtful silence stretched on, and the air sparked around Miranda. He smiled at that. She had held her brother back, caused him to protect rather than attack, but Gellert was no fool, she was just as powerful as Tom was. His instinct had told him, however, that she just couldn't be there to subdue the darkness Tom held.

Gellert's instincts had proven correct, Miranda was a sweet girl, she'd fallen sort of in love with him and had started to call him 'Papa' after only two months of living with him and his elf Claudius. She was nearly eleven, just two days shy actually, it was time to tell her that what she sought was no longer in his reach, "Miranda, pet, Tom is gone."

The girl just looked at him dully, "What?" Her voice cracked at the top and he put on his best sympathetic look even though she couldn’t see it.

"Pet, I went back to get him, but he was gone. Do you remember the man I told you about?"

"Albus Dumbledore? Did he take my brother?" She asked, raising her voice.

"Yes, pet. He was taken to Hogwarts by Albus Dumbledore." The name hurt to speak aloud, just like it always did, but the hurt at the name wasn’t as bad as the regret that it carried behind it. The fanciful part of him liked to imagine that Miranda was theirs, the best parts of him and all of Albus in a girl who looked as if she’d stepped from the pages of a fairy tale.

"The magic school?" She said, interrupting his thoughts, and Gellert was proud of her, she learned things quickly. It was so much easier to teach her things that way.

He hummed in confirmation, "Precisely, I cannot reach him there, but he is safe in it's walls."

The girl's face scrunched up in frustration, "So, you're just going to leave him in that dank old place?"

Gellert rolled his eyes, did the girl not notice that they lived in an abandoned Bulgarian castle? It was dank, and certainly very old. To his upmost displeasure, the child often fell pray to the common cold, and no manner of warming charms seemed to keep the nagging illness at bay. His hope was that as her magic became more controlled her body would better regulate itself, or at the very least she could cast warming charms on herself. They were always more efficient that way. "Pet, we live in an equally dank castle."

She shook her head, "It's nice here!" She was only saying that because she couldn't see how nasty it was. He could take her to the most horrible parts of Nurmengard and she would still adamantly declare that it was the nicest place she'd ever been.

"It's no matter. Hogwarts is the safest place for Tom, much safer than that orphanage would be." At the mention of her previous home, Gellert watched her put a hand on her right arm, which upon taking her from that place, he had discovered had been broken severely and never set properly. Fixing that had been a painful experience for the both of them.

He touched her cheek, "Miranda, he is safe, and he will be learning how to control his magic just as you have been."

He'd developed even more of a soft spot for the little witch, and when he had time away from the 'greater good', he taught her everything he could, most of all... magic. In his absence, Claudius oversaw her book learning, and told her stories of elves through the ages. In the beginning, Miranda had reminded Gellert of Albus' Ariana, and the similarities continued to be uncanny. Miranda was brimming with magic, but with no way to control it simply based on a disgraceful lack of knowledge. She was better now, and had done very well in spite of her disability.

"I want to be with Tom." She said stubbornly, pouting, her hazel eyes staring straight at him. That was the most remarkable thing about her, while she couldn’t see still, she could see magic every so often, including that within wizards and elves. She described it as dim swirling balls of color, and had told him that each one was different. But, since she actually had no idea what color was, she couldn't tell them what colors she actually saw. Gellert and Claudius' had come to no conclusion as to why she saw magic besides the fact that she and her brother were overflowing with it themselves. It was mostly only useful so she didn't panic about being alone and could find the both of them on her own. It still didn't keep her from running into walls and such things. Which she did, frequently.

"It's not safe, pet. It's not safe for either of you to be left out in the open. It's a dark time. I could protect you both, but it would weaken me considerably and most certainly require Claudius' constant monitoring of the spells. As long as Tom is in a safe place, you should not worry about him." He hated getting on to the girl, but he had to stop this now. He loved her enough that if she begged for long enough, he knew his resolve would waiver.

Claudius checked on the boy from time to time, and had told Gellert about him. He was a good boy, at the moment, he appeared to be rising above his inner demons to be a kind, well behaved teacher's pet. But so had Gellert. It was a delicate stage for the boy, he was fighting hard, trying to be a nice person. It would only take one incident for his inner shell to crack. If she went to him now, it would never happen.

"We will get him back, but not now. Speaking of birthdays..." A smile formed on her face. As much as she focused on Tom's birthday, her's was only the day after, and she often forgot all about herself in favor of focusing on Tom’s birthday. The twin's were born a half hour apart, after all, Tom in the last minutes of December 31, 1926, and Miranda before the first full hour of January 1, 1927 had passed. "I have something for you."

"B-but, my birthday isn't for another two days." She said, trying and failing to keep her excitement off her face.

Gellert took her hand, "Yes, but I want to see you smile before then. Close your eyes."

"Why, it's not like I can see anything?" She said questioningly.

"Just do as you're told, pet." He growled, thinking that she sounded far too much like a young woman when she said that.

She closed her eyes reluctantly. Gellert pulled her arm towards him, twisting his gift around her wrist. "Now, this belonged to Salazar Slytherin."

"One of the four Hogwarts founders.”

Gellert smiled at her wit, "Yes, now let me finish. Since it belonged to him, and then to his daughter, it is only proper that it belongs to you now. I've added a little something to it, which you should enjoy." He hugged her, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, "Happy birthday, Miranda. Open your eyes."

That was the first birthday Miranda actually felt happy. To her Papa's displeasure, she was running around like some hellion. She could see! In color! That had been what he added to her bracelet. When she had opened her eyes, the whole world in full color. She'd never told her Papa, but she had seen before, every time she'd ever held Tom's hand after they'd marked each other.

It was something they'd agreed never to tell anyone. Both of them had cut each others palms. The marks were shaped like "s"'s, on her right hand and his left, together, they created the sign of infinity. Tom had told her that he would always love her, and he would never hurt her. They had discovered after that, that when she held his hand, she could see, but only in black and white, very dim but she could see. Now, thanks to Salazar Slytherin’s trinket, she could see in full color like anyone else.

Gellert had told her that the eyes of the silver snake that fit firmly against the skin of her wrist contained shards of something called the Resurrection Stone. She loved it, but had no idea of the magical significance, and wouldn’t for many, many years.

He was pleased that she was happy, and had gotten a good laugh when she had eyed the slime on the wall with tangible disgust. "This place is really a hovel, isn't it?" She'd said, and he had been obligated to affirm her observation.  
\------------  
Over the next two years, Miranda grew more and more lovely. She also grew more and more restless, but not about her brother, "Papa! Can't Claudius take me to... somewhere?" Gellert gave her a dark look, but the teenager just scowled right back at him, "I'm thirteen, Papa, I should be able to leave the house every once and a while!"

Gellert eyed his charge thoughtfully, she was getting to be quite the handful, much different from the docile thing she had been during those first years. She'd changed the whole look of the place, cleaning the areas they used for living, even to the extent where Claudius had slammed his hand in the kitchen with a meat tenderizer out of guilt for not cleaning enough. She had spent the next week helping the elf with everything and the two were adorably close now, but Claudius was still uneasy about allowing her to help him with his chores, he didn't understand having a master actually help. Gellert suspected that it had something to do with the fact that she had spent most of her life raised by people who expected her to pull her own weight, and had probably punished those with idle hands.

"Alright." He said to her surprise.While she was unfortunately becoming more and more stubborn, Gellert planned to use it to his advantage. She needed her own wand. "I'll have him take you to Diagon Alley."

Her face lit up, "Diagon Alley! Really?" She threw her arms around his neck, "Thank you!" She smelled like the soap Claudius had purchased when they'd brought her home, claiming that she would like the lavender scent. It had been the only soap she would ever use, to Claudius' delight, because Gellert had told him that she wouldn't like it at all. 

He rubbed her back and summoned Claudius with a snap of his fingers, "I'd like you to take her to Diagon Alley." He tugged the girl away gently, "Miranda, go get a bag, you're going to need something to hold your galleons in."

"I'll be back in a moment!" She yelled as she ran out his study door.

As soon as the door closed behind her, he eyed his elf critically, "She needs a wand of her own, she can't use mine forever. One of these days she's libel to put an eye out, or worse." The elf nodded exuberantly, as elves do, "Take her to Ollivander's, he'll have something to fit her. He's much better than the oaf Gregoravitch anyway. If you must, take her to Honeydukes, no doubt she's read about it."

"Of course, Master, Claudius will shop with the little Mistress. Master can count on Claudius." The house elf assured, his huge yellow-green eyes blinking at his Master expectantly.

"You will allow no harm to come to her, Claudius. When's she's done, you are to bring her straight home. Don't you dare leave her alone. If I find so much as a paper cut on her..." The threat was enough.

The elf scoffed indignantly, "Mistress is Master's treasure, Claudius would never let Mistress Miranda fall into harm's way." Gellert smiled at his life long companion, they had grown up together, Claudius and Gellert. Claudius was just a few years older, and his mother and father had been the only elves that the Grindlewald family owned. Gellert knew that if there was anything he could trust Claudius with, it would be Miranda, but he just needed to make sure that the elf knew what was expected of him.

"One last thing, if you see her brother or anyone shows too much interest in her, you must bring her home immediately. No mind to what she says." He whispered the last sentence as Miranda skid back into the room, her shoes scuffing the wood floor.

She seemed so alive, and it amazed Gellert. In all his years, the only person he'd ever though of like this was Albus, the man he'd loved more than himself. Albus had betrayed him though, turned his back on him when Ariana was killed and never looked back. Miranda would never betray him, she was too sweet, the thought would never cross her mind, even when she found out that the brother she longed to see again had no memory of her.

She would only be 'safe' as long as no one knew she existed. If someone noticed how much she favored her brother, word might get to Albus and then he would go searching for her once he actually noticed that the boy's memories had been altered.

Obliviating the boy had been a simple task, and the muggles had proved even more so. While Tom was a natural Leggimens, Gellert had many years of knowledge that he stood no chance against. He knew he should have obliviated Miranda as well, but he couldn't. Even Gellert was aware that absolute power corrupts absolutely, and Miranda would be the world's protection from Tom, just as Albus was from Gellert. There was always the chance that Tom could turn from the 'greater good' to the good of himself. He would need Miranda then...they all would.  
\------------------------  
As soon as she felt her feet touch the ground, Miranda took off, Claudius hardly having time to grab her hand. She was in a place she'd only dreamed of visiting and she wasn't going to miss a thing.

"Mistress!" Yelled the elf who was having trouble keeping his feet on the ground, "A wand! Remember?"

"Yes, Claudius, I remember!" She stopped so abruptly that the elf had to grab her pleated skirt to keep from flying past.

"Mistress?" He asked, noticing how she seemed miles away. She was staring at a store window. With the enthusiasm only a child could contain, she ran to the glass and joined another group of children, Claudius clinging to her side.

"What is it?" She asked in awe.

"It's a broomstick, have you never seen one before?" A tall black haired girl just a few years older than Miranda asked.

Miranda shook her head, "No, I've only just read about them."

"Well, this is the newest model, all of the boys are practically drooling over them." She held out a hand, which Miranda shook, "I'm Walburga Black. I've never seen you around here before."

"Mistress and I are only visiting Diagon Alley, Miss Black." Claudius answered quickly.

Miranda nudged him with the toe of her shoe, "I'm Miranda Riddle, it's nice to meet you."

The young Black dropped to her knees in front of Claudius after flashing Miranda a smile, "He is so cute!"

Miranda giggled at the elf's discomfort, "This is Claudius."

A boy came up and took Walburga's hand, interrupting whatever she was going to ask Miranda about her elf, "Walburga, can we go?"

"Cygnus, can't you see I'm talking?" The girl snapped at the boy that was obviously her little brother. She pushed the boy behind her with one hand, "Don't worry about him, he's the more annoying of my two brothers. What I was going to ask, is if you needed any help finding something? My brother's Cygnus, Alphard and I are on holiday from Hogwarts, we're supposed to be looking for a gift for our mother," She shot a glare at the boy, "only someone got distracted by the broomsticks."

"My brother goes to Hogwarts too!" Miranda exclaimed before Claudius could stop her. He would need to stick his head in the oven for letting her say anything.

Walburga smiled, "What's his name? Cygnus might know him."

Miranda suddenly looked uneasy, and Claudius hoped she might remember that his Master had told her Tom was safe only as long as they were separated. The poor harried elf couldn't be that lucky, "Tom! His name is Tom Riddle."

The elf sagged against his Mistress, debating about whether to snatch her away from her new friend. The young boy shrugged, pushing up his glasses, "I don't know a Tom Riddle."

The older Black shook her head, "No, you wouldn't, you're only a first year. I'm a fifth year, I don't recall a Tom, but our other brother might know him though, he's a third year, but he's in Gringotts with our father."

"No need to worry, Mistress and I must be going. Thank you for your kindness." Claudius said, pulling on Miranda's hand, "We...must...go!" She finally allowed him to pull her away, waving at Walburga and Cygnus Black, receiving a less than enthusiastic wave from the latter.

He couldn't get her to Olivander's fast enough, and pushed her inside to stand outside to make sure she wouldn't be disturbed. Olivander knew that he'd see her one day, and he stood behind his counter examining the young girl, "Hello, Miss Riddle." She looked up at him with startled large magicked blue eyes. "Don't be afraid, I've been waiting for you, Miranda. Tell your elf this won't take long, I think I have just the thing for you."

Miranda stepped up to the counter and put her elbows on it, holding her head up with her hands, her black patent leather shoes squeaking against one another. "Really?" She said, something in the old man making her trust him, "What do you think I need? Mr..."

He smiled candidly, "Olivander, dear, like the name outside, my first name is not important, it's the family name that really matters."

"Well, what is your name, then, and how did you know mine?"

"Xander, dear girl. Xander Olivander, you can see why I don't particularly like to advertise that. Promise you won't tell anyone?" He grinned conspiratorially at her.

"I promise." She said, tracing the grooves on the counter top, "But only if you answer my question."

He flinched unwittingly, she had sounded like her brother just then, "I've been waiting on you, since the day your brother Tom walked into my shop. I knew he was special, and I knew that you would come. I just had to wait." He plucked a box from under the counter, "I've been holding this for you." He opened the box and held it out to her. Miranda just stared at it, unsure of what to do. "Take it, Miss. Riddle." His smile returned, "My, my, I see you're a bit more hesitant than our Tom, he took every wand I offered without a second thought. Ruined quite a few of my lamps. But I have a feeling that this one will work for you."

Tentatively, Miranda took the wand from the box, "How do you know?"

"My dear, I made this wand with two others. A sister for two brothers."

"Brothers?"

"Yes, this wand is ten and a half inches, holly and a core of Phoenix tears. Your brother's is Yew, thirteen and a half inches and a Phoenix feather core." He said, watching the girl hold a third of his most precious creations.

She held it to the light, examining it with a critical eye, "I wasn't aware you could give a wand a liquid core."

He was more than a little surprised by the knowledgable statement. "It took great care, but fortunately, the Phoenix the cores come from is fairly tempered. His name is Fawkes, if you care to know."

"Should I try casting a spell?" She asked softly, running her finger down the length of wood.

"Yes, yes. Go on, give it a go." He took her hand and steered the wand away from him, "Just not over my way." She giggled a little and he smiled at her. Her joy was infectious, and it brightened his spirit to see how joyful she was, unlike the void of her brother.

She then became engrossed in the wand, slim in her hand. "Wingadrium Leviosa." She said, and the inkwell in front of her hovered above the counter while a silver light filled the room, leaving both occupants breathless.

"Fascinating."

"You were right!"

"I'm always right, my dear. Or at least very close to right." The old man boasted.

After she had paid him, Miranda hung around, ignoring the beady eyes just on the other side of the glass, waiting on her, "I'd like to learn. It seems like you know people. I want to know people. I do get so lonely."

"Well, it just so happens, since my late wife and I had no children, I'm in need of an apprentice. You seem to have a fair eye for wands. Would you like to give it a trial run? Perhaps spend a few afternoons with an old man?"

"I'd love to, but my Papa might not let me. He's very protective." She said, looking at her new wand again.

Olivander looked at the elf outside, "Tell him I have no problem if you bring your elf with you, he's welcome to come and watch."

Claudius took her home as soon as she walked out the door, and set to berate her for telling Walburga so much about herself and Tom. When the angry elf had told his Master, the Dark Lord had laughed, "Did you say Black? Walburga? I haven't seen that whelp in years. She's as lovely as her mother I'm assuming. Pity if she takes after Pollux. He's loyal, but not much of a looker."

MIranda was delighted, she might have found a friend she could hold on to.

She would be right. Pollux Black and Irma Crabbe were followers of the Dark Lord, although he would never tell Miranda that. "I'm a business acquaintance of Pollux, though I haven't seen his family since their youngest was in nappies."

"I liked Walburga. Might I see her again sometime? If you know her father, perhaps we could be friends." She hedged carefully.

Grindelwald studied his daughter, as he'd come to think of her as. She looked so hopeful. There certainly wouldn't be any harm in letting her spend time with Walburga Black within the confines Grimmauld Place. One conversation would be all it would take and the ancestral home would be as safe for Miranda as Nurmengard was. That was another thing he never told her, that they lived in a castle that resided within Nurmengard, like the Hogwarts Room of Requirement, it's own place, unplottbale and completely safe. "Yes, I'll visit Pollux tomorrow and see if you can visit. Claudius must go with you, of course."

"It's alright! I think Walburga was quite taken with him."

"Of course she was, she thought her drool covered stuffed dragon was cute too." Gellert grumbled, amused by the panicked look on his House elf's face, yes, Miranda would have a friend, and he could find a way to make sure that even if he fell, she would be safe. He could feel the threat of Albus grow everyday, and when the time came for them to fight, no matter how hard Albus tried, he wouldn't be able to kill him.

He'd heard about Walburga Black, beautiful, a bit too kind for her family, like her brother Alphard, but very, very smart. She was a bright witch with a gift in altering spaces from reality, in fact, it was probably a Hogwarts student such as her that had created that ever useful Room. Yes, Walburga would be a nice tool to have in hand, the closer she and Miranda were, the more she could be persuaded to do for his cause.

"Thank you, Papa." Miranda said, hugging him gently. She'd decided to wait to ask him about Olivander, get one victory before asking for more. "Goodnight!" She yelled as she ran to her room, her mind racing with how much her life had changed in one day.

"Goodnight, Pet." He whispered to the gloom around him.


	2. The Riddle's

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you read the original version, there's new content in this new version!

Gellert was sitting in his study in an armchair next to the dying fire. It was early in the morning and he found himself studying a picture of him with his sweet girl, they were both smiling, his curly blonde hair mingling with her straight ebony-like hair. He had been teaching her to ice skate, Walburga had taken it, saying that they were too cute. Miranda had loved the snow and had been so happy that day, her fifteenth birthday. She wasn't a little girl anymore, and, like all fathers, he was panicking a little.

Miranda was sixteen now, a woman in her own right. She and Walburga were near inseparable. She hadn't spent any real time with Gellert in months, but in all of the soft smiles and quick hugs, he knew it wasn't as if she didn't love him still.

The only problem was, as usual, Albus. He was getting closer. Every time he left Nurmengard, Albus would show up just after he left. He was losing followers, and fear was beginning to become a new bedfellow.  
For her sixteenth birthday, Miranda had a particularly challenging request, but, his future plans not withstanding, Gellert Grindelwald was a doting father. Also, he knew by the time Miranda was free, her request would likely be all but impossible to fulfill.

So he found himself in the village of Little Hangleton with Miranda, the young woman wringing her hands nervously. She had her head down, hiding her eyes from him. She may not have been his by blood, but in the end he left his mark on her just the same. Her parents had left her with sightless hazel eyes, but by him and his magic, she had crystal blue eyes that saw so much more than he wanted her to. She wasn’t as naive as she played, but he appreciated it all the same. “What happens will happen, pet.”

She shot a dark look at him, cracking the facade of the perfect English lady she’d fussed over the whole morning, “Of all the times for you to be calm.”

He had to smile slightly at her unease, “You know where I stand, Miranda.”

“I know.” She whispered, and met his blue eyes with her own, “I love you, but this is important. My mother’s dead, and Tom is out of reach until he graduates. These people are the only blood family I have left.”

“They’re muggles, Miranda. Just remember. I’d hate to have to obliviate them.” He wasn’t going to tell her that, either way, he was obliviating the inhabitants of the house.

She knocked hesitantly, but the door opened a few moments later. “May I help you?”

An older dark haired woman stared at them. Gellert waited a few moments, but Miranda remained speechless. He stepped forward, putting a hand on Miranda’s back, “Mistress Riddle?” The woman nodded, her eyes fixed on Miranda. “We are looking for Tom Riddle. Is he about?”

“I’m his daughter.” Miranda blurted.

Mary Riddle arched an eyebrow at Miranda, “From the mess with the Gaunt girl?”

Miranda nodded, “Yes ma’am. Merope Gaunt was my mother.”

“You certainly don’t look like her.” Was the woman’s snide reply.

Gellert was tempted to hex the woman at her tone, but Miranda unknowingly intervened, “I’ve always been told my brother and I take after our father. I’m very aware my mother was not choice in visage or temperament. I’m asking for nothing here but the chance to meet my blooded family.”

But bless her, she was brave, that beautiful young woman Gellert Grindelwald had managed to not completely screw up. He scarcely managed to keep a prideful grin off his face.

Mary Riddle, to her credit, seemed impressed by Miranda, but asked, “You have a brother?”

“Yes.” Miranda told her, “A twin. Hardly an hour older than myself. I’m sure he would like to be here as well, but he’s studying at an elite boarding school.”

Mary seemed to soften, either due to genuine interest or material interest at a grandson she’d never met rating an ‘elite boarding school’. “Twins? Oh my. My Tom never does anything by half, does he?”

Miranda blinked furiously at the off-color comment, but Gellert found himself amused by the woman’s pride in her son. “I suppose not, Mistress Riddle.” He felt a presence behind them, pressing his hand into the back of her waist, “Miranda.”

She turned, and was face to face with the man her mother had ensnared. “Tom Riddle?” She asked, voice hardly more than a whisper.

“Tom, this is your daughter, come to meet you and tell you about her twin brother.” Mary Riddle supplied to her son.

Tom Riddle Sr. stared at Miranda, much like his mother had done. “My daughter. You certainly look like me, don’t you?”

It was true. They shared the same fair skin and dark hair, and Miranda’s stubborn chin was an echo of the man’s in front of her. She would have favored him even more if she wasn’t Grindelwald’s daughter too. Tom Riddle Sr.’s eyes were hazel.

What followed was a slightly awkward tea filled with subtle references to Mary Riddle’s son needing an heir given his ever advancing age, and less than subtle inquiries into Gellert’s presence. “I already have a father, Mr. Riddle, a very good one, and I don’t need an explanation for your abandonment of my mother. I only thought it might be nice for us to know each other, even if in passing.”

They left with vague promises between Riddle’s to write and see one another again, but Gellert took care of all of those before Thomas Riddle ever got home from the office. And that night, Miranda spent the evening curled up with Gellert, trying to process it all. He was proud of his girl. The promised letters never came, but she herself seemed to have been obliviated, and never mentioned the Riddle’s again.

A few months later, however, Grindelwald was awakened by an elf screaming.

"Master! Master!" Claudius yelled, running into his Master's study with his hands waving about his head, "Master, Mistress wont's stop screaming! She won't wake!"

In an instant, Gellert was out of the study and running up the stairs. "Tom!" He heard as he busted her door open. "TOM!" She shrieked and he pulled the curtains away from her bed. Her eyes were jerking rapidly beneath her thin eyelids and her body was covered in a sheen of sweat, the white nightgown visibly damp. She was clutching the bedsheets, and Gellert felt his heart leap to his chest when he saw that her hands were bleeding, she had dug into her own skin with her fingers. "Tom! Stop!"

"Miranda." Gellert whispered in horror, touching her damp shoulder.

She stilled after her last scream, but her eyes did not cease their frenzy. Suddenly, she let out a tiny gasp and all movement ended. Gellert grabbed her shoulders and lifted her up to his chest, cradling her there as he ensured that she was still breathing.

"Don't, please, Tom, don't." She was whispering under her breath.

Gellert put her back down, assuming that her nightmare was ending. Claudius was wringing his hands at his Master's side. "I think she's alright now." Gellert whispered, stepping back slowly.

As he turned to leave, Miranda spoke, her tone steady and assertive, "Tom, stop. Don't do this. This isn't you." There was a pause, as if she was waiting for a response in a conversation only she could hear. Her eyes were still closed, she was still stuck in her nightmare. Gellert knew better than to try to wake her up now, but what she said next sent a chill of glee into his gut. "Don't kill her, Tom. You don't want to do this." She started convulsing again, "Tom! Tom! No!!!!" She shot up, her eyes open and her breath panting and erratic.

Gellert was back at her side, kneeling beside the bed, "Miranda? Pet, what is it? What did you see? Is Tom alright?"

She threw her bloody arms around his neck, sobbing. He ran his fingers through her hair, whispering softly to her, trying to know what she had seen. Was everything finally paying off? He'd heard of problems at Hogwarts, could it be Tom?

"Papa." She said softly, "Papa, he killed her. That poor girl. She was upset and wandered into the bathroom. I begged him not to, but he wouldn't listen. He has a basilisk, Papa. He turned it on her, she didn't stand a chance."

No, that poor girl didn't. It had begun. Tom would be His heir now, whatever happened to Gellert didn't matter anymore, as long as Miranda was safe and Tom was embracing his future. "Shush, pet, it was just a dream."

She shook her head against his shoulder, "No, it was real. I was there. He didn't even look at me. I looked into his eyes, and I saw nothing. He was actually amused that she died. I'm losing him, Papa. Something is stealing him from me. I'm not sure if I'll be able to get him back."

"Pet, please, it was just a dream. I promise you. Tom is at Hogwarts, he couldn't have a basilisk." Yes, he could. Salazar Slytherin was nothing if not a sneaky bastard, and leaving a deadly basilisk in a school full of children waiting on a descendent to unleash it upon them all would have been almost hilarious to him. "It's early, go back to sleep. Claudius will wake you before breakfast." He needed to leave. He needed to speak to Walburga.

He was out the door before she could protest anymore, but she sat there, looking at her bleeding hands. She looked up at Claudius, "It was real. I know it was, I was there, Tom killed that girl."

Claudius started to wrap her limp hands in gauze, "Claudius knows, Mistress, Claudius knows. Shh. It will all be over soon, then you'll be safe."

"Ow!" She yelped when he accidentally jabbed one of her wounds with his own fingers. She shook him off, finishing the gauze on her right hand with her dominant left hand. "I don't understand why that keeps happening! And why did you bring Papa this time?"

Claudius ducked his head, Miranda in a rage happened very rarely, but when she was, small items had a tendency to fly. "I could not wake you this time. Mistress, you would not stop screaming. Claudius didn't know what else to do. Claudius was so scared."

She calmed quickly and picked up Claudius, giving him a hug, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. I’ll change clothes and go to Burga's" With a snap of her fingers, her dampened nightgown transfigured itself into a grey cotton skirt and a white shirt.

Claudius shook his head, "Claudius never should have taught Mistress wand less magic. Bad Claudius. Mistress too smart for her own good."

"Oh, stop that, you funny little thing. It was the only way you really could teach me considering I didn’t have a wand and was blind for most of my early life. Let’s go, I know it's early, but I can't sleep now. Burga's probably up anyway, she's an earlier riser than I am." Miranda was trying desperately to keep calm, to keep the panic from building in her chest again. What she had seen in her dream had been just another in a long line of dreams featuring her brother.

Walburga always settled her down. Sure, she had finished Hogwarts two months ago, but she had always made sure to keep an eye on Tom for her best friend. Walburga was an expert at siphoning information from her brothers, not that Alphard wouldn’t tell Miranda everything she wanted to know.

She hesitated. Walburga was in the midst of her own troubles. Would it be right to add to them? She had to. Miranda wasn’t so naive that she didn’t understand that her Papa had told her only what she wanted to hear, or that his flight from her room was peculiar. She needed Walburga’s decisive mind to give her some idea of what she was supposed to do. Surely she had to do something, right? Tom needed her, even if he didn’t realize it. She’d pulled him back from the brink once before, surely she could do it again.

"Mistress, one moment." Claudius said, grabbing onto her hand when she started towards the door again, "First, it's four o'clock in the morning, and second, your hair is a bit of a mess, as is your face."

Miranda smiled at the elf, ”Oh, thank you for letting me know. I would have scared her half to death. Not to mention her brothers would have screeched at me for days." She sat back down on her bed, patting a space next to her, "Help me brush my hair?"

The elf smiled, picking her silver brush up off her dresser, "Of course, Mistress." He had always brushed her hair when she was a child, and it had been a common thing for them after one of her nightmares.

They had started when Tom had first gone to Hogwarts. Miranda had sat through the opening feast with Tom, standing just behind him, running her hands through his short black hair every so often. It had seemed to calm him. No one could see her, and she knew that Tom couldn't either but she knew he felt her. Sometimes, in her own dreams, she could feel eyes on her, but when she turned around, she never could see anything. She knew it was Tom though, he had a familiar feel to him, if she closed her eyes and thought hard enough, she could imagine the feel of his hand in her own, their scarred hands pressed together.

Lulled by the sensation of the silver brush running through her hair, she decided not to believe what she had seen was real. It was simply a bad dream. Her Papa was right. Only a nightmare. Claudius caught her head as Miranda fell back, fast asleep.  
\----------  
Her Papa was pacing the Black family library. "Irma. Where. Is. Your. Daughter?"

The pale woman was sitting in the corner, looking at her lord from her plush chair with sunken eyes, "Pollux went to get her, my lord. Please, don't be angry. Walburga can be quite stubborn." The woman shifted shakily in the chair.

“I am aware.” He grit out, thinking about how the pigheaded young woman had rubbed off on his Miranda over the years. Walburga was going to get herself in trouble one day, but he needed her continued usefulness to last just a little while longer. He continued to pace.

Walburga, on the other hand, was sitting on her bed with her back towards her father, quite resolute as she told him, ”No. I will do no such thing."

"Walburga, the Dark Lord is not a patient man, and leaving him with your mother is not a good idea. Please, Walburga, would you mind me just this once to get him out of the house? Your mother doesn't have much time left." Pollux was at his wits end with his oldest child. She never listened to him, only to her mother. Why did she have to be so much like Irma? Why couldn't she be as people pleasing as her two brothers?

She continued to write on her wall with chalk, trying to finish the spell she was working on, her brain focused on the spell as she dismissed her father, ”If he wants to talk to me without Miranda present, he can come here. There're no boggarts in the closet, promise." She said, waving her hand behind her back, "I'm not the one who swore my loyalty to him. I don't owe him anything, I never have. Miranda is my best friend, but I was always very clear this arrangement was for her and I, not him. Now, get out of my room."

Pollux swore darkly before leaving her room and returning to the library, trying not to tremble in fear, ”Master, forgive me, but my daughter requests that you go to her quarters." He kept his head down, expecting the dark wizard to attack him. He didn't care, just as long as Grindelwald didn't hurt Irma.

To his surprise, Gellert shrugged magnanimously, "Fine, I don't have time for this, show me. I'll play her games."

Pollux bowed, "Merciful Lord, thank you for not being angry."

Gellert looked at the man dismissively, "You and your children are good to my Miranda. But really, I simply don't have time to punish anyone so early this morning."

Irma cleared her throat, "My Lord, forgive me for questioning you, but what do you want with my little girl. She's just a child, surely there isn't something I could do for you?"

Gellert knelt in front of the fragile woman, "Irma, you've done enough." She had been cursed while doing recon for him just over a month ago. She didn't have long to live, and it was painfully obvious. In the last few weeks, her striking beauty had faded leaving a frail shell of the woman she had been before. She coughed daintily into her handkerchief, and blood smeared on it.

"I'm not dead yet, my Lord. I can still do anything she can do." She smiled weakly, "Just give me a few moments to freshen up and I can seduce anyone you need." The woman had always been so loyal to him, his best at getting information from hard targets, she had a gentle hand coupled with what had once been a pretty face. Her bright eyes were sunken now though, her hands bony and her entire body was emaciated. She was in the library to sleep because she could no longer sleep laying down without nearly drowning in her own fluid.

"Irma, you don't need to worry about Walburga. I simply need her to make something for me, she won't even need to leave the house." Irma blinked at him, and smiled again, closing her eyes and falling fast asleep in an instant.

"Forgive her, my Lord. She tires so quickly." Pollux said, pulling a blanket into her lap.

"No, forgive me, Pollux. I'm the reason she's dying. I'm sorry I've done this to your family." Gellert found that in the end, there were a lot of things he was sorry about. He left the library and found the girl's open door on his own. "There you are, Walburga. I was looking for you."

"No, you summoned me. I don't come like a dog. What do you want?" She pulled her hair over her shoulder.

"I'm not a very patient man, but I am here, begging your help." The wood creaked under his feet as the Dark Lord bowed to an eighteen year old girl.

Walburga straightened at the sound and turned around cautiously, her book falling from her lap with the chalk. Gellert Grindelwald was knelt next to her bed, his head bowed. She very well might have been a queen in a different life, but she was still stunned, staring at him. Quickly, the heiress regained her composure, sniffing lightly as she looked at him. ”I'll ask again. What do you need from me?"

He looked up, fixing her with his green eyes, "I need you to help me keep Miranda safe."

Walburga made to stand up, suddenly panicked, ”Why? What happened? Is she alright?"

"She's fine. Forgive me, I didn't mean to frighten you. She won't be fine for too much longer, however. I know you've read the Black family dark texts."

"Yes, I have, just don't tell my mother." Walburga said with a smile, standing and moving past him, "What in those texts could interest a man like you? Surely you have all manner of books at your disposal. The Blacks are just one of many dark families."

"Yes, but the Blacks are the only ones who have such a talented young lady in their home. You are a gem with the knowledge to destroy men and burn this city to the ground. You're smarter than you let on, little girl."

Walburga leaned against the wall of her room, careful not to smear the chalk that covered almost every wooden space. ”So, you want me to serve you?"

"No, help me protect Miranda and I will help you with what I know you want."

"What do I want? Money, power, fame? I have all of that. As you pointed out, I am a Black." Walburga had no fear of him, he was a man, nothing more, nothing less. Men she could handle, it was love that she couldn't deal with. A shiver went down her spine. Did he know? Did he know that on the end of the necklace she wore around her neck was an engagement ring? The one given to her by her beloved?

Brennan Evans had given the ring to her on the day he'd graduated from Hogwarts. She was his, and he was hers. Her Mudblood. Yes, Brennan Evans was muggleborn, and she couldn't love him more, no matter what her family said. She would go against even Grindelwald to keep Brennan from harm. She would protect her family.

The man’s words were not what she expected: "You want your mother's pain to end."

She froze, her hands halfway to the wood of the desk. He was the reason she was like that. How could he talk like it was so commonplace? Like Irma Black had gotten ill for no reason. She was dying and it was his fault. Walburga’s defenses snapped up on that unexpected front, "How can you say that? I love my mother!"

"Yes, I see that, but, Walburga, your mother will linger for months. She'll get sicker and sicker, and that shell of a woman in that room will become a ghost. You know that. If you help me protect your best friend, I will end your mother's suffering. It will be peaceful for her, easy. You want that for her, don't you?”

Walburga felt the tears fill her eyes against her will. "Yes, I do. I don't want her to be in pain anymore.” She wiped her face with the back of her hand, “What do you need me to do? If you want Miranda to live here, that's fine, we could pass her off as a cousin, she looks enough like us." He let her ramble on for a few minutes.

"Miss Black, all of that is well and good, but it's not foolproof. She's in danger as long as Albus Dumbledore is alive."

"Can't you just kill him?"

"Not hardly, and he can't kill me either, he doesn't have the heart."

She eyed him critically, and saw his own unwavering resolve, ”Fine”

"Excellent, I need you to make a room, that's impenetrable, unplottable, and where time ceases to move." Gellert circled the girl who had stumbled into the center of the room, "Walburga, you are the only one in this family strong enough to use those ancient spells."

"How do you know I even know spells that will do that?" Walburga said, her voice soft. She felt defeated already. She knew what he was asking her to do. He wanted her to trap Miranda. He wanted her to trap the sweet soul who had thawed Walburga’s heart enough to be ready to accept Brennan’s love. He wanted her to trap her best friend…her only friend. All to keep her ‘safe'.

Gellert smiled, "I know that some of the darker books can only be opened by someone of Black blood."

"Rather, using Black blood." Walburga added, she'd given herself a paper-cut examining one of the books whose pages were blank and then words had filled the page. After that, bloodletting was one of her standard practices when encountering a new book. It was a process Miranda loathed.

"Will you do it?" Gellert asked, "For Miranda? For your mother?"

Walburga laughed bitterly, "How can I say no to that?"

"You can't."

”I won't."

Walburga made a deal with the Dark Lord. In the end, it was a good deal, but it was one of the hardest things she'd ever done. She made the room as her mother sat dying a slow and painful death in the next room. She had Alphard, her kind, loving brother, paint a portrait of her and she'd infused it with some of her energy by mixing her blood in the red paint. When it was done, she stuck it to the new door she'd made to the room she and her brothers' had played in as children that was connected to her bedroom. The door in her room had been sealed, like it never existed, and the portrait with it's Permanent Sticking charm covered the door entirely. The spells were set that January, Miranda had just turned seventeen, and Walburga knew that she would never see her best friend's eighteenth.

Gellert personally brought Miranda to the house one morning a few weeks later, whispering to Walburga that it was time before hugging Miranda closely one last time.

Feeling like the villain she was, Walburga had plastered on a smile and led Miranda up the stairs, "I want to show you something."

Miranda rolled her eyes, not noticing how ill her best friend and house elf looked. "Not more books, Burga, you know I can't read half of them. I'm not a Black. The last one nearly bit my bloody finger off.”

"Not books." Walburga said, fighting back her emotions, "A room." She tugged on the portrait that had for now been hidden as a family portrait. "Alphard, Cygnus and I used to play here as children."

Miranda moved amongst the old dolls and hoops, "Wow, all of this is so fascinating!"

Walburga watched her for a few minutes before Claudius pulled on her skirt, reminding her of what she had to do. The elf looked as terrible as she felt when she said softly, "I'm so sorry, Miranda. I hope one day you’ll forgive me.” Tears rolled down her cheeks.

"Whatever for?" Miranda had said, turning to comfort her friend.

Walburga grabbed the edge of the portrait. "For this." She closed the heavy door with a solid thud, falling against the outside as the sobs overwhelmed her. She wanted to open the door again, but she couldn't, the door would only open when Gellert had set it to. She didn't even notice Claudius slip out of the hallway.

"Burga?" Miranda said, her voice seeking. "Burga? This isn’t funny!" Her voice rose in her mounting panic, "Walburga! Where are you?" She tried tugging on the door, but it wouldn't budge. Everything was black. Walburga knew that the one thing that scared Miranda was darkness. She'd lived in a world of darkness long enough and being with her sight but unable to see terrified her. Walburga wished she had thought to put a lamp in the room. The flame would never burn out due to the spells, but she hadn’t had time for things such as that. Perhaps that would have made it easier on both of them.

She sobbed harder as she listened to the younger girl shake the the handle of the door. "Walburga!" Miranda cried, making Walburga pinch her eyes shut.

"Let me out of here!"

"Please!"

"Papa! Claudius! Anyone!"

"Help me!”

“Tom!”

“Help me!”

She screamed for what seemed like hours before the spells subdued her, drawing her unwillingly into a peaceful sleep. In the next room, Irma Black closed her eyes for the last time. Walburga kept her vigil until her father came home, discovering his wife dead and his daughter in shock just outside the door.

The only thing that kept Walburga from falling apart during her mother's funeral was that, just on the other side of the grave, was Brennan, his sad smile keeping her sane. Her father was not so lucky, when Grindelwald fell at the hands of Dumbledore, Pollux had no purpose in his life anymore except to cleanse the family name. Walburga was forced into revealing her relationship with her green eyed muggle born when her father had insisted that she wed her cousin Orion.

Pollux had beaten his daughter half to death and then ordered her to kill her lover who had been disarmed and forced to watch the brutalization of his love. She had refused and then her father had turned his wand on her. Brennan begged then, begged her to just kill him, to save herself and to live. What he hadn't needed to say was that she had to live for their son, their Sirius, the baby that had been growing inside her since before Grindelwald had come to see her.

Staring into his green eyes, Walburga had done it, with one last kiss and two words, her future was ruined. She married Orion two weeks after. When her son was born, she hid him away. She couldn't let her father notice Brennan's face in their son's. She used the same spells that held Miranda, and in 1959, after another in a long string of miscarriages and her father's death, she retrieved her son, allowing Orion to raise him. She’d betrayed Miranda and made her beloved’s son a changeling.

It wasn't his fault, she had tried to reason with herself. It wasn't Sirius' fault that he was just like his Gryffindor father, but the madness that had destroyed the once brilliant witch wouldn't let her forgive him, so she punished him. And she lost him, like she lost everyone. In the end, she was alone, but no one missed her.

Gellert spent everyday in Nurmengard thinking of how he would feel the day Albus died, his ex-lover would be dead, but Miranda, she would be free.

And she was. As Albus Dumbledore fell from the tower, Miranda Riddle stirred, waking alone in the darkness.

The door that had trapped her swung open, but the once familiar house behind it had changed. Gone were the rich fabrics and well polished bannisters, replaced by filth and despair. Confused, Miranda had run out of the house, letting the door slam shut behind her. It was fall again, and Miranda's instincts kept her alive 'till summer, as well as her knowledge of how to create muggle currency. She tried very hard not to stand out, to blend in, with moderate success. She got a job as a waitress in a tiny diner and lived out of her transfigured handbag, without a real home. While London itself had changed very little in the last fifty years, 1997 was a whole new world that took some adjusting to, as did muggle life.

Something in her had told her to hide, but she couldn't hide when two teenagers ducked into the diner in the middle of the night like the devil himself were after them.


	3. The Tapestry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is up thanks to Nurainnee who left a kudo! Thank you!
> 
> We get closer to the plot in this chapter, and, again, there's new content for my returning readers.
> 
> Kudos and comments are greatly appreciated!

Miranda was writing in her diary after her shift had ended, nursing a caffeine laden expresso behind the counter. Cathy, the night waitress stood next to her, rambling about how her boyfriend had cheated on her. It didn't matter that she had cheated on him first. Or maybe that had been the last boyfriend? Regardless, Miranda wanted to shove a sock down the other girl’s throat. That was possibly the biggest difference fifty four years had made. Relationships weren't sacred anymore. There was often none of the charming courting of her days, and more single women than not would have been considered unseemly harlots.

She'd lived without incident for four months in this new time. Her quiet nature kept her unnoticed, and her Papa and Claudius had always taught her to adapt to situations. The hardest thing about this time was that she had no way to get back to magical London. They'd always flooed to Diagon Alley, and she could inexplicably no longer remember where Walburga's house had been. She was out in the cold. Even her wand, which had never been registered with the Ministry, meant that her use of magic went unnoticed.

That had allowed her to confund the little woman who owned the diner to allow her to live in the two room flat above the small establishment. It wasn't much, just a toilet with a shower she’d spent two days trying to figure out how to work, a bed and a small bookshelf, but it was enough. A cushioning charm on the worn mattress made the bed actually decent. She never left anything more than a few books in the room, a tiny voice in the back of her mind always warning her to be prepared.

Her wand not being registered meant that she couldn’t even count on it to alert people in the magical world of her presence so they could find her. Short of running out in the middle of London and cursing people, Miranda didn't know how she was going to get back. Or if she even wanted to. The betrayal of her Papa and best friend hurt her more than she cared to admit.

She could handle Muggle life, really, she could, but these people didn't understand her. Excluding her muggle family she’d only met once, she had only ever met one Muggleborn in her entire post-orphanage life until wandering into Muggle London.

Brennan Evans had secretly courted Walburga for her last two years of school, and he had been quick-witted, charming and engaging. With Claudius and Kreacher ordered into silence, the two girls had often met Brennan in Diagon Alley for tea and danishes. Miranda had genuinely approved of the two together.

Now, she didn't even know if they were alive, if anyone she'd known was still alive. Witches and wizards lived far longer than muggles, but there had been a war going on, a war Brennan himself had enlisted in. He was a wizard, so that gave him some protection from muggle weaponry, but she couldn’t be sure he hadn’t gotten himself killed. Surely he hadn’t been aware of Walburga’s treachery. No, he would have stopped her. Of all the people from her past, Brennan was the only one she wasn’t pissed at.

Miranda was so caught up in her anger and despair that she didn't even notice the two other teens rush into the diner. Only when her expresso was emptied did she realize that Cathy was actually working and no longer whining, and also found herself looking at the teenagers sitting in the far booth. A soft noise drew her gaze from them to look up the stairs leading to her flat.

Fawkes, the Pheonix who's tears resided in her wand, had found her a few days after she had woken up, and was sitting on the railing. He swung his magnificent head towards the group and nodded at Miranda before flaming away.

She looked at the teenagers again, confused by the magical creature’s interest in them. He was usually only interested in preening himself all over the floor during the day, which usually left her cleaning up feathers. These teenagers though, they’d drawn his interest: The flame haired boy was big, obviously tall with broad shoulders. While she couldn't see his face, she imagined him to be fairly handsome. The girl had a paranoid, harried look to her, obviously uncomfortable about having her back to the door. She was pretty though, brown hair curled in the same wild way Walburga's had, framing a face she had noticeably grown into. They made a pretty couple, and had the girl not looked so panicked, her brown eyes skimming all over the place, Miranda might not have noticed the shimmer in the air next to the boy.

She slid the silver snake off her wrist, fighting the spirited thing a bit as it tried to cling to her before setting it on the countertop in front of her so she could look without it’s assistance. Everything was black and she was disoriented for a second in the darkness, orienting herself a few seconds later. There were three magical energies sitting in the booth. Her instincts were right. Sure enough, something was there, and it was magical, shimmering green next to the red headed boy. Naturally, it was invisible, which was a fabulous sign. She put the snake back on, and color and shapes flooded into her sight when it twined itself back around her wrist happily, if a bit tighter than usual.

The couple in the booth finally spoke to each other in hushed tones, the girl's voice taking on a shrill note as she shot down something the boy had said to her. They shut up quickly, the girl looking more disgruntled than before. She was going to get wrinkles if she kept that up. Cathy took their orders, barely sparing Miranda a glance before filling two mugs and taking them back to the table.

When two men walked into the diner, Miranda felt herself stand, drawing her wand out of her purse and putting it in her back pocket, something an old friend had told her not to do. Instinct told her something was about to go down, and she wasn't going to let the young couple be harmed since they had resumed talking at the arrival of the workmen. The boy said something that caused Cathy to glare at him, before going to the other table, where she was quickly dismissed by one of the workers.

They hadn’t ordered anything.

The girl reached for her bag. Miranda pulled her wand an instant before the workmen/wizards pulled theirs. One saw her, but the other kept his eyes glued on the young couple. The shimmer had moved with them. The flame haired boy pushed the girl over in her seat from across the table with a lunge. The spells from the men barely missed him. A disembodied voice yelled, "Stupefy!" The bigger of the men fell to the ground.

Cathy screamed but Miranda clapped a hand over her mouth, pulling her to the ground. It wouldn't do for the muggle chit to be killed on her watch. The remaining man cast a spell, covering the boy in black ropes. Cathy broke free of Miranda with a scream and was heading for the door in an instant. A stunning spell hit Cathy in the back, making her fall just in front of the door. Miranda was focused on Cathy for a moment, and when one of the tables blew up, it caught her off guard. She fell back out of her crouch with a squeak.

When she recovered her balance, a black haired boy was standing behind the blown up table. The shimmer. Had to have been some kind of spell, but why had he been hiding? The girl cast a quick body bind, subduing the remaining assailant. Miranda watched as the girl obliviated the two men and Cathy after a few tense seconds of debate between the three. It seemed that none of them had ever tried the Memory Charm before. They fixed up the diner, the flame haired boy and the girl bickering amusingly. The three then began talking about how the two men had found them.

Miranda couldn't take her eyes off of the dark haired boy, his face illuminated by a stream of light from outside in the now dark cafe. He looked so familiar, when she got a good look at his face, as he turned to face his friends, she knew why. His eyes were the same color and shape Brennan Evans' had been. He also resembled Tom a great deal, but it might have just been the hardened look he had in his eyes. The compulsion to stand and reach out to him struck Miranda, but, just before she stood, she heard what the dark haired boy said, "Grimmmauld Place."

His companions gaped at him and Miranda felt herself take a sharp breath. They spent a few minutes debating about someone named Snape before the boy won the argument, saying the girl's name, Hermione, with the hard voice of a leader before finishing out what seemed to have been an effective statement.

The girl unlocked the door and the flame haired boy turned the lights back on by using a metal object that glinted in his hands. As the lights came back on, Miranda Disillusioned herself, walking quickly to stand behind them, making sure that her trainers made no more noise on the tile floor than the other three's did. They reversed the spells on the two men and Cathy, disapperating only a moment later. Miranda took a soft hold of the girl's bag, careful not to pull, and let herself be tugged along with them.

They landed in a square Miranda recognized instantly, as if she and Walburga had only been playing in it yesterday. She saw the old iron bench that Alphard had often read on as they had played, too shy to play with them. The three she was following didn't give her time to stop and stare at all the memories this little garden, in all it's disrepair, held. They ran to what looked like to Miranda, a seam between to of the houses. She followed closely, and breathed a sigh of relief when the house appeared. The three went inside but Miranda just let herself crumple onto the front steps. She was home, or as close as she could get to home. She'd always felt safer in the dusky, quiet halls of Grimmauld Place than at the castle in Bulgaria. It was a home, Cygnus running about, harassing the elves, Alphard shooting her glances that made her know he had a crush on her, Mr. and Mrs. Black welcoming her for dinner, Walburga casting spells in her room, where small explosions were common. The castle she had lived in with her Papa had just been the two of them and Claudius, it had been a million times better than the orphanage, but Grimmauld Place had been home during those last few years of her life before.

For the first time since she woke up, Miranda truly realized that everyone she knew was probably dead or very old. Walburga had to be dead. She knew that much, the Black heiress had always told her that no matter what, she would never leave Grimmauld Place. The only reason Miranda could think of as reason for Walburga to not be in the house was if she had gotten disowned, and that was incomprehensible, regardless of her love affair with a muggleborn. Walburga would have brought him into the house and expelled the rest of them before she would have left her beloved home.

Under her fingers, Miranda found her answer. Names etched into the stone. In a child's writing were two names, Sirius and Regulus. Miranda felt a sob catch in her throat. Walburga's children. They had to be, Walburga had always said that she would name her son's Sirius and Regulus. Brennan had been fond of the name Sirius himself:

"Brennan had the most splendid idea while we were talking the other evening. He’d like to name our first son Sirius, you know, to honor my family’s tradition. I think Regulus is a fine name, don’t you?” Walburga had prattled on, stirring a cauldron as it sizzled and steamed.

“Careful with that, Burga, you’re letting it get too hot.” Miranda had advised, ready at any moment to extinguish possible flames.

Walburga had rolled her eyes, “Oh, enough of that, you. Just because you’re a potions genius doesn’t mean I can’t monitor my own cauldron without incident. Regulus: what do you think?”

Miranda hadn’t hesitated to answer, “I think I like the name Sirius better. What if you two have girls?”

“I'll name my first daughter after you of course." The girl had said easily, throwing her arm around Miranda's shoulder, "But only if you name your's after me."

Miranda had raised an eyebrow, lowering the intensity of the fire, "I know Miranda is an okay name, but Walburga? Even you hate your name."

The heiress had laughed, "Well, you could name her Burga or Elizabeth."

"Elizabeth?"

"Yes, my middle name. Walburga Elizabeth Black.”

The name that had been said with a cocky flair faded around Miranda like a mist. They'd had that conversation upon the very porch she was slumped on, allowing the steam from the cauldron to evaporate while the ventilation spells in the potions room had been on the fritz. And now, Walburga was more than likely dead.

She could have sat there forever, memories of a life that had been stolen away from her seeming to come alive. She didn't have the strength to go inside, she didn't feel like trying to introduce herself to the three teens who were obviously more than equipped to take her down. Taking off her black coat to use as a pillow, Miranda laid on the porch and closed her eyes.

It didn't take long to find Tom, it never did these days. He was sitting in a plush chair, watching a boy of about eighteen torture the big blond man from the diner. A snake wound around his ankles and he looked angry. She still hadn't gotten used to his new form, this grotesque man-snake combination didn't sit right, it wasn't right.

*"More, Rowle, or shall we end it and feed you to Nagini? Lord Voldemort is not sure that he will forgive this time.... You called me back for this, to tell me that Harry Potter has escaped again? Draco, give Rowle another taste of our displeasure.... Do it, or feel my wrath yourself!"

Miranda felt anger surge in herself and a log fell in the fire, pushed by the power she channeled in these vision-dreams, lighting up the face of the tortured torturing boy, pale and afraid, but ultimately handsome. It also lit up Tom's face, but in a shadow, hovering just in front of his distorted reptilian features, Miranda saw the black haired boy that was currently in Grimmauld Place. The face was only there for an instant before it disappeared completely.

Miranda stood next to the fire for another hour, watching the brother she had once known force another to torture. When he finally sent the others away, she approached him, "Tom."

His slit eyes grew wider, "Who dares speak that name? Show yourself!"

She knew he couldn't see her, in these dreams she was nothing more than a shadow, a disembodied voice. Even looking at his horrid face, she still couldn't forget how handsome her Tom had been, before this creature had taken him over.

In her dreams, Miranda had watched the darkness seep into him. She had been convinced that he was just curious, until the Basilisk in his sixth year. Until that girl had died, Miranda had believed the lie he showed everyone in his school. She knew what he had done to himself. The first time she had seen him after she had woken up she had recognized the deterioration of his body and soul. Horcruxes. Her Papa had told her about them, but only under the condition that she never attempt to do anything like that to herself. After hearing the revolting requirements, Miranda had put the concept out of her mind. Tom was fractured, parts he had wished to suppress had been taken and stored in someone or something else.

Miranda stepped closer to her mutilated brother, and whispered, "I love you, Tom," before forcing herself into her own realm of dreams.

When she woke up, she nearly screamed, standing right over her was a house elf. She blinked once before throwing her arms around him, "Claudius!"

The elf squeaked, "Mistress!"

His bony arms around her were a much missed comfort. "Where have you been?" She said, sitting up, letting the bedraggled elf go.

He smiled, stroking the side of her face, "Claudius was in Hogwarts, but Master told Claudius to check here for Mistress when Headmaster died. Claudius has come every day since, Mistress. Claudius missed his Mistress."

"Master? Where's Papa?" Her Papa was alive? Miranda hadn't expected that. He’d been old before, well past middle age, and over fifty years had passed.

The elf shook his head, "Claudius shouldn't have said that. Claudius hasn't seen Master since Mistress did last. He sent both of us away the same day. Master is so thoughtful, to keep Mistress safe. Yous was supposed to have been in Grimmauld Place, but only Kreacher was there when I's got there. Claudius must get Mistress inside."

The elf tried to pull Miranda to the door but she wasn't small anymore. She had a horrible feeling in her stomach, "Claudius, where is Papa?"

The elf looked to his feet, "Master is in Nurmengaurd, a prisoner. Put there by his love. Master did not wish you to know of his illicit doings, and still wishes for you not to know the details. Claudius is only to ensure that you are unharmed and to tell you to stay far away from Nurmenguard. He doesn’t want you to see him that way. You’re also to use the name Peverell and stay alive.”

Miranda couldn't catch her breath, her papa was alive, but he didn't want her to be with him. It made sense, he was in prison after all and she was likely to strangle him for trapping her if she saw him, but it still hurt. "Claudius?" Miranda said, pulling the elf to his feet, suddenly worried that relaying her father’s message had hurt him in some way. “Are you alright?”

Claudius nodded, his eyes struggling to focus. Miranda let him steady himself before requesting softly, "Go, back to where ever you were. I'll call for you if I need you. Rest, old friend. Thank you for finding me. If you see my Papa, tell him I love him."

The elf blinked, tears in his tennis ball sized eyes, "I will, Mistress. Claudius doesn't want to leave Mistress, but I will. Please, call for me, even if all Mistress needs is a hanky or a hug. One word, and Claudius will come to Mistress."

She kissed the elf on his aged forehead, "Thank you, Claudius. Now, go." The elf disappeared with a pop.

Miranda looked at the door of Number Twelve forlornly. Taking a breath, she entered. It hadn't changed much. It had just gotten dustier and darker, less warm. This was no longer just a home that was happy past the strain of madness, it was madness. There was no life in it anymore. The home was gone, the house was all that remained, and it absolutely killed her.

The three others were no where in sight, so, wand drawn protectively in front of her, Miranda walked up the stairs, mindful of the sixth step that had always creaked. The door to the tapestry room was open, and Miranda couldn't resist taking a look, trying to glean more knowledge of the new Black family from the portrait. Perhaps the boy with Brennan's eyes was a Black. Walburga’s grandson, perhaps?

Her childish theories were dashed when she examined the cloth. Walburga's magic was all over it, angry unfamiliar magic Miranda didn’t want to recognize. People were blown off the tapestry entirely. It hadn’t been scorched like that before. Miranda traced the name below one of the scorch marks, "Alphard." She pressed a kiss to it, "What did you do to anger her?"

Cygnus' face was unharmed. It didn't make sense, Alphard had been Walburga's favorite brother. She had all but hated Cygnus. Walburga had loathed how tediously petty her youngest brother was, but she had loved Alphard’s quick wit. She couldn’t have blown Alphard’s face off the tapestry. Others were gone too, from those that hadn't been there when Miranda had seen the tapestry last, Black’s she’d never gotten the chance to meet. Miranda held her hand over the charred face of Sirius, Walburga's son. "Revelio."

Her magic cast a mist out that solidified, playing like a moving picture show around her, obscuring reality:

She was in the same room, but the green chair was back in the corner and years had been taken off the tapestry. Walburga was standing next to her, looking at the tapestry. She traced the handsome face of her son. He was handsome, his eyes the same silver color of Walburga's, his wild black hair could have come from either of them, but his smile, the way the corners of his mouth turned up lopsidedly into a mischievous grin, that was Brennan through and through. The tapestry may have claimed him as Orion’s, but to Miranda, it was obvious that Sirius Black was Brennan’s son.

Walburga was older, her hair had gray in it and Miranda's heart broke to see it pulled up in the same severe bun that Irma had always kept her own hair in. She had aged poorly, her still beautiful face lined with stress induced wrinkles. "Sirius." She whispered, staring with wild eyes at her son’s magically embroidered face, "Why? You had everything. Why did you turn your back on me? What can they give you that I can't? Filthy blood traitors."

"Walburga, he thinks you hate him." Alphard was standing behind them. He looked like Pollux Black, his father, but the kindness and softness on his face made the severe lines of his features seem handsome. And Miranda could have grown old right beside him, she would have, actually. Everyone had assumed they would marry, even they had assumed so.

She turned to him, distraught, waving her hands and wand about, "I don't! I don't hate him! I never could, he's just so stubborn. It's them I hate, filthy muggle lovers." Walburga had changed since Miranda had seen her last, a lot.

"Burga..." Alphard began.

Her face contorted in disgust, "Stop calling me that. I hate when people call me that. I'm not a child. I'm fifty years old, Alphard. You don't hear me calling you 'Al' any longer."

Alphard snorted and Walburga stared at him, "You know, you haven't liked anyone calling you Burga since Brennan died. I think you still love him. You wouldn't hate muggleborns as much if you didn’t.” He sighed heavily, “You always swore that we would never become our parents."

"We didn't, Alphard. I did. You didn't. I am the matriarch of the Noble House of Black. When mother died, I took up my rightful place. I live to make good the name of the house of my forefathers. My son is a stain upon our noble family.” She gave her own heavy sigh, “Regelus, he is a good son. He makes me proud." She set her jaw, still looking at her sons on the family tree.

Alphard shook his head in frustration, lips pursed, ”What happened to you, Burga? We used to be alike. I always had my travels, looking for new magic and you, Burga, you were a brilliant spell mistress.” He paused, staring at her, and Miranda knew he was dying for his big sister to look at him. When he spoke again, his voice was barely a whisper, “I haven't seen you create a spell since Sirius was born." Alphard looked like he knew that this would be the last time he would see his sister.

"It's only been sixteen years. I've gotten old, Alphard."

"Walburga, you haven't created a spell since he was born the first time, in nineteen forty five, thirty years ago. You don't have your drive anymore. We could have been great. We could have brought great fame to the House of Black. We said we would change the world. The three of us..."

If possible, Walburga went even more rigid, "Exactly, Alphard, three. Miranda is gone. We will never see her again. None of those old promises mean anything. I'm content to make my son the best he can be. He will serve the Dark Lord." Walburga's silver eyes were colder than Miranda'd ever seen them. It felt weird to hear them talking about her when she was standing right beside them. It felt wretched that her chance to be there in real life had been stolen from her by her own father and best friend.

"The Dark Lord, Burga, exactly, Miranda's brother. We run the risk every time you bring him here that he might suspect something, that he might look inside our minds and see where you hid her. It's too dangerous to be around him. Our mother died because she served the first Dark Lord, and he will be your downfall too if you let him."

"I'm not our mother, Alphard. You need to leave." She sounded defeated.

“Why? So you can blow your son out of the family because he went to spend the weekend with his best friend? Be rational. He'll come back." Alphard wouldn't let her let her son go without a fight. He was Brennan's son, the only part of him left in the world since his muggle family had removed themselves from the magical world by having their memories of Brennan altered upon his death.

The corner of her mouth twitched up, almost a smile, "He won't. He won't come back, he's gone for good this time. I know it. I am his mother after all." She touched her son's face on the wall, "It's better for everyone this way. He'll be happier there. He never was happy here. I think he knew, somewhere deep down, that he wasn't Orion's son and that I hated him for that. I won't have to look at him everyday and be reminded of Brennan."

Alphard sagged against the wall, his age showing, "You might be right there. I never understood though, why you can't handle Brennan being gone. Father killed him. You shouldn't blame yourself for that. Our father was a self-righteous mad man. He went nutters when Mum died. But you, when he killed Brennan, you died too."

"I lied to you, Alphard. Father didn't kill Brennan, I did. This needs to be done." She stepped back from the wall, and Miranda flinched as she scorched her oldest son from the tapestry.

Alphard was looking at his only sister in horror. "You are mad, aren't you? I'm going to Sirius. I'll get him sorted out. But I'm not bringing him back here. You would kill him now, wouldn't you?"

"If I see him, yes. Unless he's coming to take those awful pennants off his walls." She said coldly. "If you go to him, you will meet the same fate."

Alphard stuck his chin out like Miranda had seen Walburga do so many times in the past. "So be it, because I will not abandon the son of my sister and my best friend. Have a good life, Walburga, I hope you’re happy with how this all turned out." He turned on the spot and was gone. Walburga sank to the ground, her face in her hands.

As Miranda returned to the present, but she could still hear Walburga's sobs echoing in the room, chilling her to the bone. Miranda closed her eyes, her best friend had been gone for a long time, but Brennan's son, he must still be alive. She made up her mind, she would find him one day, and show him how she had seen his mother, the young, happy Walburga he had deserved to have as a mother, and would have had if fate hadn’t gone so horribly wrong. "I'm sorry, Burga." She'd lost a lot in those days, and she had never recovered, not even for the sake of her son, her Sirius.

"How did you get in here?" A voice said from the door and Miranda gasped, turning to face it, her wand up.

The shimmer, the boy with Brennan's eyes, was standing in the doorway, the other two behind him. Miranda opened her mouth to explain herself, even though she had meant to stay hidden, but the only thing that came out was, "Bugger."


	4. Grimmauld Place: Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Extra long chapter that begins our time in Grimmauld Place with an added helping of Voldemort!

Harry had heard the girl after Kreacher had left, and had walked down the hall, wand out, Ron and Hermione close behind. She was in the room with the Black family tree, touching it with a pale hand. "How did you get in here?" He asked and she jumped,  turning toward them with her wand raised.

 

"Bugger." She cursed in a soft, melodic voice.

 

"I'll ask again, how did you get in here?" Harry hissed, ready to disarm the girl, no matter how harmless and frail she looked.

 

The girl looked at the tapestry and back to Harry, as if trying to figure out how she actually had ended up in the room. She answered with furrowed eyebrows, as if confused by her own presence in the room, “I was in the cafe. I followed you."

 

That was all Harry needed to hear. "Expelliarmus!" He yelled.

 

Her wand sparked in her hand and jerked slightly, but didn't fly across the room as it should have. The witch and wizard stared at each other in shock. “Stupefy!" She said, waving her wand at Harry.

 

He skid back an inch or so, but that was the only reaction. "What the..."

 

"Serpensortari Major!" Miranda yelled, terror filling her. She couldn't handle being powerless, and whatever was happening with this boy was making it hard to breathe. A snake fell from the tip of her wand, turning to her for direction. She hissed at it to attack Harry just as he commanded the opposite of it. They stared at each other again, both knowing how rare their gift was. For it’s part, the conjured snake just bobbed between staring at the both of them.

 

"Who are you?" Harry asked in awe, lowering his wand slightly.

 

"Miranda, Miranda Peverell." She felt herself saying, using the name she’d been born with. Her heart pounded in her chest from a whole lot more adrenaline than it had been subjected to in months as she banished the conjured snake with a wave of her wand. She stared at the boy with Brennan’s eyes, the boy whose magic had just behaved as a foil to hers. What it the world was going on? Her eyes drifted to his wand, and everything Ollivander had ever taught her about her own wand filtered back into the forefront of her brain. Her wand had two brothers, and that wand in the boys hand…

 

"She's got to be a Death Eater, Harry!" Ron yelled, pushing past his friend, "Stupefy!"

 

Miranda flew across the room then, hitting the wall with a thud and falling unconscious to the ground. "Ron!" Hermione shrieked, running to the girl, "She wouldn't have just banished the snake if she was a Death Eater. She’d have killed us."

 

"She talked to it!" Ron said in his defense.

 

“Yeah, well if you didn’t notice, I did too! That doesn't make me a bloody Death Eater!Shove it, Ron." Harry snapped, crouching next to Hermione, "Is she alright?"

 

Hermione nodded, “I think so. Probably just stunned." She looked at Harry, "What should we do? She's seen us, and knows where Grimmauld Place is. We can't let her go."

 

"Are you suggesting we kill her?" Harry said, looking at his best friend in disbelief.

 

Hermione recoiled, "No! Of course not! I thought we could just Obliviate her and dump her far away. It won't mend the Fidelius Charm, but as long as she doesn't remember coming here, she won't come back."

 

Ron nodded in agreement, but Harry looked at the girl again. "No, we need to keep her here." He picked up her left hand, pocketing her wand, and extended her arm, "She's not a Death Eater. She doesn't have the mark. She looked sort of scared of us actually, a little confused even.” He grimaced, “And I did attack her first."

 

"Okay, so we interrogate her, and then we Obliviate her, brilliant plan, mate." Said Ron.

 

Hermione rolled her eyes, "I think what Harry is trying to say is that she's too pretty to have actually wanted to hurt us." She put a hand on Harry's shoulder, "She's not a stray dog, we can't take her home."

 

Harry scowled at her, "I know that. I just think it was weird how she was looking at the tapestry, like she was familiar with it." Harry stood up and walked to where Miranda had been standing, mimicking her stance to see what she had been looking at. It didn’t help make things any clearer. She’d been standing right in front of Sirius's scorch mark, her hand had been on Alphard’s. "She was looking at Alphard Black."

 

"The one disowned for helping Sirius?" Said Hermione.

 

"Yeah." He went back to the girl, "I want to know why we couldn't curse each other.” Harry touched his wand to her forehead, and whispered, “Rennervate."

 

She blinked awake. Jerkily, she sat up, pulling herself away from them, noticing the absence of her wand. She felt naked without it, and even though she could do wandless magic with relative ease, she knew she couldn’t protect herself from all three of them and her new redhead induced headache was distracting enough to make wandlessly apperating a death sentence.

 

Turning her attention back to the room and off her wand-less state, Miranda felt herself start to panic. For a second, it was nineteen thirty five again: she was eight years old and disgustingly helpless. The wooden floor under her hands, the desperation, the male presence hovering above her surrounded by several other presences set off feelings she had avoided for much of her teen years. Phantom hands grazed across her skin, tugged at her clothes, and tangled in her hair. Her breath caught in her chest and she dug her nails into her own arms, trying to pull herself out of the memories.

 

These three weren’t those boys, they weren’t the ones who had abused her and turned her brother into a murderer. The blind terror ebbed slightly when she focused on the sharp pain of her own nails in her flesh and the other female presence in the room, but her voice still trembled when she finally whispered, "Please don't hurt me."

 

"Answer our questions and we won't." Ron barked, receiving glares from both of his friends. Miranda flinched away from him, drawing herself closer to the wall.

 

"Miranda." Harry said, and they both shivered at the sound of her name on his lips. He held a soothing hand out at her, ”How do you know Alphard Black?"

 

She looked up at the tapestry with sadness in her eyes, but the fear was almost completely gone. She took a steadying breath, grateful that she was able to do so at all without screaming, ”I grew up with him, all three of them actually.” Miranda forced herself to let go of her own arms, dropping her hands down into her lap. “He was a friend, we dated a little.”

 

The Trio looked at her like she was insane, "He would have been over seventy years old by now, you can't be older than twenty."

 

Miranda looked down at her hands, rubbing her right thumb over the head of her silver snake, a nervous tic she’d developed over the years. "I'm not, I'm seventeen.” They looked at her like she was completely crazy, and she decided the truth would be the best way to get them to not throw her back out on the streets, “I should be seventy one, but I’m not. I spent most of my summers living in this house after I turned eleven, Walburga was my best friend.”

 

Miranda hesitated, but felt like she needed to actually explain why she was still so young. Wizards and witches may live longer than muggles, but, barring complicated illusions, they still visibly aged. “I don’t know why exactly, but Walburga... she trapped me in a room where time was suspended. Or at least I think that’s how she did it. I was released four months ago and I was still seventeen. When I was locked in there, it was 1944, and she was nineteen. I don't know how I got out, so you needn’t bother ask. I’d like to know as well.” She turned her blue eyes to Harry, “There’s a lot I’d actually like to know. First off, just who _are_ you?"

 

"Hey! We're asking the questions here!" Ron barked at her, resulting in Hermione dragging him into the hall, content with Harry's abilities to contain a wandless girl who couldn't apparently hurt him anyway.

 

"What do you want to know?" Harry said, sitting down in front of her, making sure to keep his wand held in his hand but not aggressively.

 

"Your name would be a nice start, but I'd also like to know who owns Grimmauld Place these days. I didn't see anyone when I woke up and ran out of here like a raving lunatic. When I tried to come back, it was like Number Twelve didn’t exist. I didn’t know what else to do so I ended up in that bloody miserable diner.” Miranda admitted shamefully.

 

"My name's Harry Potter, and I guess… I own Grimmauld Place now, my god father left it to me." Harry said, judging her reaction.

 

She just nodded, internalizing the grief that surged, ”So, the Blacks are dead? All of them?"

 

"Yeah, in the male line, it ended with Sirius.” Harry glanced at his wand, eyebrows furrowed, “Do you know why we can't hurt each other?"

 

Miranda nodded again, “I think so. I was apprenticed to Olivander for a few years, when he gave me my wand, he said that she had two brothers."

 

"Brothers?" Harry asked, trying to figure out how this girl fit into the mess that was he and Voldemort.

 

"My wand is Holly with a phoenix tear core, the same phoenix gave..."

 

"Two feathers! That's what my wand is made of! I knew that wands from the same source could have reactions, but our wands had nearly no reaction. It's strange, did you know the boy who got the other wand?" Harry asked, she might have known a young Tom Riddle.

 

Miranda wanted to tell him the truth, to tell him that, yes, she knew the boy who got that wand, that he was her twin, but she couldn't. Tom was a true killer now, and it would do her no favors to be seen as related to him. ”No, I didn't. He must’ve got his wand before I ever met Olivander. He did say that the boy would do great things. Do you know him?"

 

"You really have been gone for over fifty years. He's the dark lord. He's called Lord Voldemort. He tried to kill me when I was a baby."

 

"Lord Voldemort? Why would he want to kill you?" Miranda, unaware of the Prophecy, was confused. Why would her brother have wanted to kill an infant?

 

Harry smiled, not knowing the affect of his next words on Miranda, "Because I'm supposed to kill him."

 

"Oh, that's...violent." She said, finally realizing why she had felt the need to be near this boy. The more time she spent looking at him, the less he looked like Tom, the more he looked like Brennan.

 

He scratched his head, "Yeah, well, I might not have to kill him, I just have to stop him. He's trying to take over the Wizarding world, he's already got the Ministry. He wants to rid the world of everyone who's not pureblood."

 

"But he's not one!" Miranda blurted.

 

Harry looked at her like she'd grown a second head, his grip tightening on his wand, "How do you know that?"

 

Miranda realized the first of many slip ups she was bound to make and rushed to cover it up, "Um...I just assumed, since so few pureblood families probably still exist, and none of them want to get rid of all the half bloods. Who would they get to do their dirty work, the 'lesser' jobs without us?"

 

Harry relaxed, "Us?"

 

Miranda blushed, "Half bloods, like me. But you, you're a pureblood, aren't you. I knew of the Potters back in the day."

 

Harry smiled, "Actually, I'm a half blood too. My mum was a Muggleborn witch."

 

Miranda spoke in a rush, "My father, he was a muggle, left my mother, even though she was pregnant, she’d enchanted him though. I don't blame him. Who wouldn't freak out to wake up one day and realize that they don't even know the person they’re with?" Miranda had never told anyone that since her Papa had asked when he had first taken her home.

 

"What happened to her?" As soon as he asked, Miranda's face fell. She looked back at her hands, grief on her face.

 

Harry put a hand on her knee, "My parents died when I was a year old, killed by Voldemort. Whatever happened, I'm sure I'll understand."

 

Miranda winced at hearing that her brother had killed his boy’s parents, but pushed the guilt aside. "She died right after I was born, barely had enough time to name me. I grew up in an orphanage until my Papa took me away from that awful place." She met his eyes, "I'm sorry about your parents. Guess both our childhoods were taken from us.”

 

Harry smiled, taking her thin hand, but just for a second, because Ron and Hermione had finally come back.

 

"I'm sorry about Ron, he can be a little protective." The brown haired girl glared at the red haired boy, "And a little daft."

 

“It's okay. No blood.” Miranda smiled, pulling her hand back from Harry’s grasp, “Have you decided if you're going to kill me or not? I'd like to know, just so I can get a head start out the window, buy myself a few more minutes of life."

 

Hermione smiled weakly, "We're not going to kill you. I don't think any of us are ready for anything like that." She sighed, "At least not yet, thank God.”

 

“I want proof of your story.” Ron said firmly, but with much less vitriol.

 

Miranda bit her lower lip in thought, “There used to be a portrait of Walburga and I hanging in the third floor hallway outside what was Alphard’s room. He was always taking pictures of us so he could paint us later, but that photograph he liked well enough to frame. He was fond of sticking spells, and good at them too. I can’t imagine someone being able to take his things down without ruining the wall.”

 

Realization dawned on Hermione’s face, “Oh! Of course, the two girls riding carousel horses!”

 

Miranda laughed shortly, “That’s the one. Burga had her hair down like I usually kept mine, only she’d spelled it straight for me. That was the day of my seventeenth birthday. My last birthday actually.” She stared off blankly for a moment, yet again wondering what gods she had displeased to be trapped for fifty four years only to wake up and find her brother so unrecognizable.

 

"I want to help you all." Miranda said suddenly, standing up.

 

"Why?" Ron blurted.

 

Miranda looked down at Harry, holding a hand out, "Because, with you all, I don't feel so alone. I couldn't find my way back to the wizarding world. So, for a while, I wasn't sure I'd ever see any one like me again." She helped Harry stand, his hand lingering in hers for an instant longer than completely necessary, "And then you all splashed into the diner. I was about to resign myself to living as a muggle till the end of my days. I owe you my life.” She eyed the trio, putting both hands on her hips, “Also, quite frankly, I don’t have anything else to do with my bloody self. That diner was going to kill me one way or another.”

 

Hermione nodded, "I can't imagine being locked away from the magical world. I'm muggleborn, but I can't fathom living a muggle life anymore, especially with the war. There's too much here for me." The witch's eyes met Ron's and they both turned away quickly, blushing, Ron's face matching his hair.

 

Miranda noted the lost look in Harry's eyes and stepped closer to him, "What are you all trying to do? What makes this Lord Voldemort so powerful?"

 

"Horcruxes." Hermione said bluntly, and Miranda blanched.

 

“Good God. He’s split his soul?" She whispered, and Hermione nodded. "How many times?"

 

"Seven." Harry answered.

 

Things were worse than Miranda had expected. They said he had made seven Horcruxes, that meant he had eight. She looked down at the 's' on her right hand. They had exchanged pieces of their souls, a bit of accidental magic made when two emotionally aggravated twins had sworn to always have the other one's back. She had to find Tom, or this boy that she found mysteriously attractive would kill him. She wasn't a descendent of Salazar Slytherin for nothing.

 

"That's a lot. Do you know much about them?"

 

Hermione took her attention, "Not much, only that to make one, you must murder someone."

 

Miranda couldn't look the girl in the eyes, she knew you had to kill someone. She had never taken a life, but Tom had. Obviously he had now, but then, when they were seven years old, Tom had killed his first victim. Tom had pushed a boy down the stairs. He had been dead before he hit the bottom step, his neck snapped. Tom hadn't meant to, not really. The fifteen year old boy had been forcing himself on Miranda for years, but she had never told her brother because Henry Matlock had threatened to hurt him. Tom had found her, and had fought Henry away from his sister. They'd ended up in the hallway and Tom had shoved him. Henry had lost his footing and fallen backwards. The orphanage had explained it off as an accident.

 

It broke Tom a little inside. He was so afraid he would hurt her, but Miranda had forced him to sit with her that night. She had cut her own hand and then his, pressing their bleeding palms together. She had promised him that she would never run from him because of something he had done and she had made him swear that he would never hurt her. She hadn't meant to invoke the dark magic required to make a Horcrux. In fact, she hadn't known about them until nearly ten years later when her Papa had taught her about them. It was in the privacy of her bedroom that she learned she couldn’t cast the spell to find a Horcrux on a compass because it would only point right at her. That had explained it though, why she hadn’t died the last night with Henry. Right after she’d been made a Horcrux, she’d started hemorrhaging internally, but despite what should have been a death sentence, she’d lived.

 

Miranda swallowed, shaking herself from her awful past, ”I know about them. Walburga taught me a little about them, but I know where she kept the book on them. She kept it hidden because she didn't want her brother Cygnus to get his hands on it. She never even let me read it, only told me a tiny bit." She lied effortlessly, the book hidden in Walburga's room had been from Gellert. It was a Black book stolen decades before his time, but he had given it back to them by giving it to their voracious daughter. Miranda began to move past Harry, but stopped, "May I?"

 

"Yeah, sure." Harry said, and he followed her into the hallway.

 

She walked into the room that had been Walburga's as a child, the one that had become Sirius'. She stood in the doorway, momentarily stunned, ”Oh, my, she had quite the Gryffindor, didn't she?”

 

Harry chuckled once, “Yeah, she did.”

 

Miranda threw a smile over her shoulder at him, “You know, I never went to Hogwarts, but I did hear about all the rivalry. Walburga thought it all rather stupid. Especially when the dueling got in the way of one of her spells. Why she preferred to work here, actually.” She ran her hands along a section of the wall, "Her bed used to be here, and she'd write spells in chalk on the wall. Used to drive her Mum barmy. She kept the book..." Miranda tugged on a section of molding. "under her bed." A foot long chunk of wood pulled away from the rest, revealing a thin cubby, a battered book resting inside. "Here." Miranda said, handing the book to Harry, "I'm not sure what is in there, but I hope it helps.”

 

Something else in the cubby caught her eye. A gold ring, tossed in the back corner. Miranda sighed, but left it there. It really wasn’t her place to divulge the mystery of Brennan Evans and Walburga Black, and she wouldn’t if she didn’t have to.

 

Sitting upright as she popped the piece of wood back into it’s home, she found herself looking out the window as the trio muttered over the book. “Sorry to bother, but, if you don't mind me asking, is there any chance we've been followed?"

 

"Well, you followed us, didn't you?" Grumbled Ron.

 

She looked at the red haired Weasley darkly, "Yes, but I wasn't wearing black robes and staring intently at a seam between two houses from a decrepit garden.” She came to her feet to get a better look, “I walked to the porch with you, but those men, they must have come after. They weren't there when I came inside."

 

Harry ran to the window. “She's right. Those have to be Death Eaters. How did he find us?"

 

"We need to get out of here then." Ron said, starting for the door.

 

"No!" Hermione exclaimed, "What if someone from the Order comes looking for us here? We need to know who's okay."

 

Harry nodded slowly, "I agree with Hermione, we'll stay until Kreacher comes back."

 

They all noticed Miranda recoil slightly, "Kreacher? That old bottle brush is still alive? He was old fifty years ago." Truthfully, she had no trouble with the elf, but he’d known more about her than she cared to share with the trio. Hopefully he would keep his mouth shut, but given his temperament, she couldn’t be sure.

 

Ron actually almost smiled at her, "Yeah, and I don't reckon he's gotten any nicer either." The two shared a look of disgust for the elf, which Hermione reluctantly joined.

 

Harry looked out the window again, "I really don't like them just standing out there though. They might eventually get Snape to come show them the house."

 

"I can get them to leave." Miranda said. "I can act like a trollop or something, make them uncomfortable enough to leave."

 

"I don't trust you out of my sight." Ron said, and Harry nodded slowly.

 

"I think we can trust you in here, with all three of use here, but I'm not sure it’s a good idea to let you go outside alone." Harry said, glancing at her, “Sorry.”

 

Miranda grimaced, “No, I'm sorry, I didn't think about the fact that you've barely known me for half an hour. I just really want to help." She looked at Harry plaintively, "I don't suppose I'll be getting my wand back, will I?"

 

He shook his head, "No, not yet. Not until we're sure we can trust you."

 

Hermione's stomach broke the following silence, "Let's all get something to eat." She took Miranda's hand, pulling her out the door, "You'd best come with me before Ron gets into the kitchen, he has a tendency to eat whatever he can get his hands on."

 

They ended up finding a few cans of soup and some crackers that weren't stale. When Miranda saw the dead rat on the floor she winced, "Eww, a friend of Kreacher's?" The others nodded, "He never could keep his little nest clean. It was worse when the others lived in there with him. His mum was a right foul old elf." She looked warily towards the front hall, "I'm pretty sure they had her stuffed...icky."

 

They all shuddered. They ate in relative silence, and Miranda tried to ignore the feel of Harry's eyes on her.

 

He was trying to figure her out, she was a puzzle. She seemed familiar to him, but according to her, she'd been locked in a room for over fifty years, long before even his parents were alive. She was beautiful. He studied her as she helped Hermione clean the bowls they'ed eaten out of. She was thin, her hair dark like his, contrasting with her pale skin, and her eyes were a deep crystal blue. Her face was another familiar thing, like he'd seen her before. Her cheekbones were high, but her jawline softened what could have made her face look standoffish and cold. Her smile made her whole face light up, and she smiled easily. He couldn’t wait to see her smile again.

 

"Harry, mate. Harry. Harry!" Ron was shaking his arm, and hissing, "Mate, quit staring at the girl, it's creepy. We need to talk without her." He gestured to the previous object of Harry's gaze.

 

Harry nodded, "Yeah, you go, I'll get 'Mione." Ron stomped into the hall, and Harry heard him go into the living room where they had slept. Harry touched Hermione on the shoulder, "Ron wants to talk to us."

 

"You have these?" Hermione asked Miranda.

 

Miranda smiled, nodding her head, "Yeah, I've got the rest of the dishes. Got to pull my weight somehow since it seems like I'll be wand less for a while." Hermione laughed uncomfortably, but they left Miranda anyway.

 

The girl moved to look out the window again, the wizards were still there. Something had to be done about them. Obviously the house was hidden by a vast network of spells, but eventually they would need to leave. The cans in the cupboard wouldn’t last forever, and she doubted that even she and Hermione together were creative enough to get too wild with meals with such limited ingredients.

 

Potions were Miranda’s strong suit, but those weren’t usually enjoyable when consumed, much like most meals she’d ever tried to cook. Past sandwiches and store-bought pasta, Miranda had eaten very little in her apartment above the diner. Hopefully Hermione was a better hand in the kitchen, or they would starve within days.

 

Of even more concern was the tribunals the three modern teenagers seemed insistent on havin. If the trio was going to debate every little thing, they were going to get themselves in even more serious trouble. She couldn’t really cook, but Miranda could still do more to help than just clean dishes.

 

Yes, she wanted to help them, but selfishly…those men were connected to her brother. Or what was left of him. Either way, maybe they could get a message to him, something to help trigger his memory. She'd long suspected that Tom couldn't remember her and that her Papa had done it. The man had simply been too paranoid about her attempting any contact with her brother, and now, she couldn’t help but wonder if Walburga had been in on the plot too. Miranda could only hope that she could get Tom to remember himself before Harry tried to kill him. She didn't want to have to hurt the poor boy. Really, he was just too handsome.

 

It was worth a try, she decided. Making up a quick plan, she concentrated on the space just behind the two men for a few minutes, forming the intent, and then she felt like her body was being compressed to between her ears. She stood behind them an instant later, smiling in exhilaration at the old talent that hadn’t left her like she’d feared.

 

The two men turned around, wands raised. "I wouldn't do that if I were you.” Miranda said, smiling sweetly, “Tell Tom I said hello." She grabbed them both swiftly and knocked their heads together, pushing them out of view in the dilapidated garden. That was a move she’d picked up from Cygnus, she wasn’t afraid to admit, and it suited her needs just fine as she laid some regrettably sloppy magic into their minds. She just didn’t have the time to make it elegant, it needed to get done.

 

She apperated back to the kitchen and quickly finished with the dishes, appearing perfectly innocuous when the trio returned.

———————

Voldemort was furious. "You mean to tell me that two of my DEATH EATERS were knocked unconscious by a little girl?" He crucioed the both of them.

 

The Dark Lord was really only mildly angry a few minutes later, who could have expected anything more from the two simpletons in front of him? After waking up, the two blubbering idiots he had assigned to check out the Taboo in London, had come simpering back to the Malfoy’s with no real idea of where they’d come from.

 

"My Lord, she came from no where!"

 

"We didn't see her until she stepped on a leaf!"

 

"Was she armed?" Voldemort asked, allowing the two men one last chance to redeem themselves before he took it upon himself to see exactly what they'd seen. He was nothing if not a kind tyrant, of course.

 

"No, my Lord, but she said to tell some bloke named Tom hello."

 

Voldemort froze, "She said what?"

 

"To tell Tom she said hello! I swear, that's all she said."

 

He needed to know who else knew that name belonged to him. The Order did, so did a few of his old teachers, but no young girl should have known it, much less have the audacity to say it. Perhaps it was Potter after an ill-fated spell from the daft Weasely boy. Wouldn't that be a twist, a female Harry Potter.

 

He penetrated their feeble minds with ease. Through their memories, he watched the event happen again. They both spun on their feet, to see the girl behind them. She was a pretty young thing, and most definitely not Potter. Her eyes were blue, not green and they didn't have the right fire in them. There was fire there, yes, but it wasn't the half scared, angry look of Potter, more like a mother scolding to errant children.

 

Voldemort was startled to notice how familiar she was.

 

He'd dreamed about this girl before, well, he'd dreamed about this girl if she were a small child with hazel eyes. The face was the same. When she raised both her hands to knock the idiots heads together, he saw the scar on her right palm, one that matched a scar on his left perfectly. That scar had been the only wound that had come from the body of Tom Riddle to this new magical body, and he had yet to figure out why.

 

Instantly, his mind was alive with ideas. Perhaps she was something the Order had conjured using his link to Potter? Perhaps they had pulled this girl right out of his nightmares? No, the only person who would have had the power for something like that was dead. Albus Dumbledore. He knew he was dead, but he wouldn't have put something like this past the old man.

 

"Tell Tom I said hello." He heard her say through them and suddenly he was thrust out of their minds and into another memory, like one from a pensieve, one the girl had obviously planted for him to find:

 

_"Hello? Tom? Hello? Where are you?" Everything was dark, but he could feel the wood of the orphanage floor under his stockinged feet and the air brushing across his face in astonishing detail. He suddenly realized he was the one speaking, in the high, airy voice of a little girl. "Hello?"_

 

_"In here." A boy's voice responded. Instinctively, he knew where to turn in the darkness, but that didn't stop him from catching his shoulder on the door frame. The boy chuckled, "Careful. There's a door there."_

 

_"I know!" He whined. He wasn't controlling himself, he was stuck in this vision, in the body of what appeared to be a blind little girl. "I'm glad I found you." He felt for the boy, his hand finding purchase on a head of soft short hair. He lowered his body to the floor next to the seated boy, "I missed you." The boy took his hand and pressed their palms together. Light emerged into the girl's sight, flooding from his grasp to hers. He looked at the boy who's hand he was holding and froze, the face looking back at him, in black and white, was the face of Tom Riddle as it had been long before he’d become Voldemort._

 

_A smile graced his child face, no more than ten years old. "I missed you too, Randa. Were they simply awful again?"_

 

_He felt the girl smile, "Not this time, they seemed pretty nice. They were both doctors."_

 

Voldemort didn't understand, he remembered sitting in this room as a boy, his room, but the other bed against the wall hadn't been there. They had never trusted him with a room mate, and it never would have been a girl. _His boy-face looked pained, "I'm sorry."_

 

_The girl plucked the photo out of his right hand, pulling them both onto his bed with surprising strength. "Don't be. What's this?"_

 

Voldemort knew what it was in their hand, it was the photo of the cave near the orphanage. _The boy scooted closer to her, tightening his grip on her hand, "I took it with the camera that man left last month, it's the cave we always go to."_

 

_She nodded, "When you all go away on holiday and leave me?"_

 

_He smiled, "You know I don't like to, but Miss Mary has a point. I can't be with you all the time, and the sea is dangerous if you were to go wandering about on your own. You know I don't like leaving you."_

 

_"I know. It looks like a scary place, if you ask me."_

 

_"You're only saying that because you can't see it in color. Randa, the water is so clear you can see near straight to the bottom. When we get out of this place, I'll take you there, and you can see it for yourself, promise. You’ll love it.” This boy wasn't him, couldn't be. This boy was a dreamer, the same anger was there, but not the pure evil Voldemort remembered himself having._

 

_"Will I love it there?" The girl reproached, resting her head on his boy-shoulder._

 

_He felt the other him kiss the girl on the top of the head, "Yes, most definitely. You'll love it, Randa. We'll build a house next to the sea and be happy."_

 

_Voldemort felt himself sigh contently, "Happy, I can live with that." They heard a clock chime out in the hall. Midnight, "Happy birthday, Tom."_

 

_The boy laughed, pulling his hand from hers, making the world go dark again, and putting it around her shoulders, pulling her to lay next to him, curling protectively around her. "No, not any more. It's your turn now." They heard the popping of fireworks outside, "Happy birthday, Miranda."_

 

When Voldemort opened his own eyes again, the two men in front of him were unconscious on the floor. What ever that girl was, she was powerful. Powerful enough to mess with his mind, and clever enough to lay a trap for him, embedding a vision inside her words to the men, knowing that he would search their minds.

 

That had been the night of his ninth birthday, and he had been alone, no girl next to him, blind unless she touched his hand. He'd listened to the fireworks in the city, alone in his bedroom, looking at the picture of the cave that had housed Salazar's locket.

 

He wandered into his room now, suddenly drained. It was just after noon, but sleep seemed to call for him. As he walked past the mirror above the dresser, he paused, looking at his scaly reflection. For an instant, the face of Tom Riddle-Head Boy returned in the mirror, confusion on boyish features. "Miranda." He whispered, touching his face, and pulling the name out of memories twice removed from the man he was.

 

He could see the girl standing behind him in the mirror, but when he spun to attack her, she wasn't there. When he looked back at the mirror, his face was still Tom’s and the girl was still behind him, smiling patiently. "Tom, I'm waiting for you." Voldemort felt his stomach in his throat, side by side, the resemblance to the girl was sickening. But he couldn't remember her from anytime in his life. Or did he?

 

Vaguely, he remembered sometimes in his days at Hogwarts, he would catch a shimmer out of the corner of his eye in the shape of a girl, he could never make her out clearly then, but this girl fit. Sometimes then, he could hear her say his name, like a ghost stuck in another plane, only able to reach out a hand to brush his shoulder or to say his name.

 

He laid down on the bed, and his snake eyes closed in a second. In his dreams, he saw the girl, in all ages. When she was younger, her eyes were hazel and unseeing, but when she was older, in the shadows, they were blue, like his now. Blue eyes that weren’t human, but were magic through and through, the original color stained by that which gave her sight. She would giggle and laugh as he told her jokes, and scold him when he did things to the other kids and stole their stuff. She had shared his room with him, and he remembered panicking every time she was sick, not leaving her side, even with the adults tried to drag him away. Who ever this girl was, he had been fiercely protective of her. 

 

When next he regained control of his body, Voldemort had come awake screaming the name 'Miranda', her name. He had come to the conclusion that she had been Tom’s imaginary friend and he had forgotten about her. It was the only thing that made sense. But then he remembered more clearly the aspects of himself that he had hidden in Marvolo Gaunt's ring, and admitted that imaginary friends were never draped by white hospital cloths. He had hidden her away, had pushed all the ghostly images and half-baked memories away when Tom was just a boy. She must have been released in the ring, let lose in a more powerful capacity when it was destroyed, one where she could hurt him, where she was truly corporeal. She may have been the death he’d used to make that Horcrux, she must have been even though he could no longer recall the particulars of that night.

 

However, he couldn't quiet the nagging feeling in his chest that he was wrong. Nagini had found him again, "Good hunt, my pet?"

 

"Yessssh, massster." She said, sliding up his body to rest on his shoulders.

 

"Anything special?"

 

"I ssmelled the two you left out. Very familiar sscent. From when I was a hatchling."

 

Voldemort didn't want to believe his gut instinct, but if Nagini remembered the girl's scent than that meant that she had been corporeal then. Why couldn't he remember her? Had Dumbledore done something? Or was Tom Riddle protecting her?

 

"Malfoy!" He yelled in the hall, walking back to the dining room. Both Malfoy men entered a minute later. "I need one of you to find everything you can about Merope Gaunt. She died on New Year's Eve, nineteen twenty-six. Bring her bones here, or what ever's left of her. I want to know everything. Kidnap a medi-wizard if you have to. It is imperative I know who she was, how she died, everything! Go!"

 

Lucius looked to his pale son, "Draco, go."

 

With an appreciative glance to his father, Draco bowed, "Yes, my Lord. It's an honor to be of service to you in any way."

 

When both Malfoy's left, Voldemort found himself staring out the window at the decaying, malnourished garden, touching the s shaped scar on his left hand with his right. He'd always wondered why it had been reformed when all other scars from Tom’s body had vanished when he had been reborn. Now he would find out, and he would find Potter and kill him. He squeezed his hands together so hard that they ached. Potter would die. Then the world would be his. Without Dumbledore or Potter, nothing could stand in his way.

 

When the glory of that realization faded, he realized that deep down, Tom’s shriveled heart was aching, longing for something. He just hoped he was wrong about what he was missing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to oil_fly, Captinlokiarmy, Confused_Traveler, and red2013 for the Kudos!
> 
> Let me know what you think!
> 
> Kudos and comments make my day!  
> -Jenn0509


	5. Potions

After their talk, the trio had returned to the kitchen, Ron red-faced and Hermione tense. Miranda smiled at the other girl, rubbing the backs of her inexplicably sore hands. "I can show you the other library if you'd like. Something to pass the time. You look like the reading type."

The two boys snorted and Ron said, "You've got that bloody right."

Hermione didn't reprimand Ron, instead looking at Miranda curiously, "The other library?"

Miranda nodded, "Yeah, you didn't think that little study upstairs was the only library, did you?”

Hermione appeared flabbergasted, “I mean, I always kind of thought it was small, but some of the rooms could have been libraries a long time ago. The books could have been in a vault somewhere or something.”

Miranda giggled, “Even I was never allowed to take a book from the house. The Blacks are one of the oldest dark families remaining. They've got books so dark they would make you take Dreamless sleep for a month."

"They were. They were the oldest. Sirius is dead. He was the last one." Harry said, his eyes filled with gloom.

After a breath Miranda smiled comfortingly, putting a hand on his shoulder, making him look into her eyes, "You might be more related to them than you think. You deserve this house."

"It's a dump!" Ron exclaimed and Miranda shot him a dark look.

"Now, but it wasn't then." She ran her finger over the dusty door frame, "Houses like this need love. Not just cleaning. They need real care. It was always beautiful. The only truly creepy thing was the stuffed elves. Walburga hated them.”

Hermione stared at her, like she was a riddle the brainy girl couldn’t wait to figure out. “You talk about her, but there’s nothing in anything that we know about her that sounds anything like that.”

Miranda nodded, “I’m not sure I knew her as well as I thought I did. She did trap me in that room, after all. But maybe that was what happened. She obviously changed after that. Who knows.”

Hermione pondered her words for a second, “That’s the trouble with the past, isn’t it?”

Miranda agreed, “Yes, it is.” She took Hermione's hand, "Come on, let me show you. Really, most of the books are fine. You just have to watch out for the ones that try to bite." She took the girl to the other side of the stairs into the sitting room and went to the fireplace, pushing in a section of the wood. The fireplace slid to the side with a horrendous creak and plume of dust which left both girls coughing and their eyes burning. When the cloud settled, Miranda took Hermione in, "This is it. The Black Family Library. I imagine that right about now, some librarian or the like is sobbing over the mere thought of holding even one of these books."

The other girl offered no response... that was when Miranda realized that she was already in the library, skimming her hands over the bindings of the books, and within a second, she was gone from sight around one of the massive shelves. "Well, okay..." Miranda said, leaving the girl and the books alone.

Ron was right outside, of course, "You think you were going to get her into those books and leave?"

They glared at each other, their blue eyes practically sparking, “I was going to go downstairs and see what state the potions room is in. And why are you under the assumption that I want to leave, Ronald? I happen to be perfectly at home in this house."

She looked away, walking to trace her finger over a gold eagle sitting on the marble mantle. "Yeah, creepy house for a creepy girl. I bet you're happy." He snapped.

"You know, Ron. I didn't ask for this." She spun on him so fast he could have sworn her eyes flashed white with anger, "I didn't ask to grow up in an orphanage with only my older brother as comfort, I didn't ask to be taken from him and live with a single man who I'm not even sure about who he was anymore, and I certainly didn't ask to be locked in a room for fifty four years by my best friend. I have spent the last four months trying to make sense of everything, and you are not helping."

Ron couldn't say anything, and didn't, even when the tears started to fall down her face. Harry, who had come upon the two mid fight followed her as she ran up the stairs. She ran to Sirius' room, hesitated in the doorway for an instant before a cloud of dust rose off the surfaces and crashed to the floor in a silent avalanche. Harry and Ron had just made it up to the landing when the door swung shut in Harry's face.

Harry and Ron stared at each other. Ron made an awkward hand movement and chuckled weakly, “You see that?”

“Yeah.” Harry mumbled, staring at the closed door. He was stunned, not just by the fact that the door had closed, but the fact that Miranda had already been on the bed when it had. She could do wandless magic. He looked down at the wand in his pocket. This girl was so much more than what she appeared. She wasn't telling them the whole truth. She had a brother? Wouldn't that have been an important thing to mention before, and not just in a fit of anger against Ron? But they hadn’t really divulged that much about themselves, had they? It wasn’t like she had been told about Ron’s siblings after all.

His head started to hurt, and then he realized that it was his scar that was hurting. Voldemort was mad. Unable to find the strength to rush to the bathroom to hide his pain, Harry sunk to the floor, holding his pounding head. "Leave me alone." He whispered in vain, trying to remember what Snape had taught him to do, to clear his mind, but he couldn’t.

Thoughts collapsed down in on him:

Sirius was dead.

Dumbledore was dead.

Snape was a traitor.

Dark brown hair and how it might feel.

Suddenly, the pain was worse than ever, blooming in his head, but this time, unconsciousness stayed away.

Miranda felt like a child, sitting on the bed that had once been Walburga's, sobbing over how horribly wrong her life was turning. She should have been an old woman now, sitting next to Walburga and knitting or something else domestic like brewing pain relief potions. Knowing Walburga though, they’d have been concocting some obscure spell on the side while a slightly more sinister potion bubbled in the kitchen. She would have married Alphard, she'd never love him, not really, but she would have done what was expected of her. They’d have married and probably ended up adopting pureblooded children orphaned during the war. Orion and Irma would never have permitted non-pureblooded children into the family knowingly, even if Miranda herself had been capable.

It would have been worth it though. She would have been Walburga's sister that way. It would have been a nice, safe life filled with certainty and stability. That was all gone now, and her best friend had died full of hatred that Miranda wasn’t sure she would ever understand. Because even now, even knowing what Walburga and her father had done to her, she couldn’t hate either of them, not really. It left her feeling a bit empty. In vain she kept crying in an attempt to fill the void.

To make matters worse, her magical trap had taken a lot more out of her than she’d expected. It had been a spell Walburga had created to give her brothers and vapid females at school nightmares. She had taught it to Miranda so she could have a long distance way to express her displeasure at Alphard should he have ever angered her. Miranda had never used it on him though, had never needed to. If anything, thinking about the spell in retrospect made her cry even harder.

Miranda stopped her juvenile attempt at healing through crying when she heard Harry's back hit the wall. She could hear him on the other side, and instinctually knew he was in pain. She didn't know why, but she knew she needed to go to him, that Tom was hurting him. She yanked the door she had previously slammed shut open and fell upon her knees in front of Harry. He was crying, holding his head and mumbling to himself in panicked tones.

"Shh." She whispered, drawing him to her chest like she could protect him from her brother's intrusion into his mind. She hadn't known that the link between Tom and Harry was that strong. She had assumed that Harry was, like her, a human Horcrux, by the scar on his forehead, a magical mark like the one on her hand. She had never been so damaged by her connection to Tom before though, and seeing Harry practically incoherent was frightening.

An idea struck her when her presence alone didn't seem to ease his pain: She had always felt just a little bit more grounded when her scarred hand had been flush against Tom’s.

She moved to sit behind him, pulling him back to rest flush against her and putting her scarred right hand against his own scar. She tucked her face into the side of his neck, her breath falling against his skin, grimacing as his hands clenched around her arm like he was holding himself together by holding on to her. They stayed that way for several minutes, her left arm around his upper body and the fingers of her right hand smoothing his wild hair, all the while, their magicked skin never parting.

“I’ve got you, just calm down, Harry.” She whispered over and over again until, finally, Miranda felt his body relax slowly and his breathing calm. Sitting with him seemed to be as natural as breathing to Miranda, and that scared her more than the implications of his bond to her brother. Even through her brief flirtation with a relationship with Alphard, Miranda had never been so positively affected by the proximity of a man. When things like that had truly mattered to her, she’d worried that her youth had left her damaged beyond repair, that having a man close to her would forever traumatize her. Pressed so closely to Harry, his body resting between her opened thighs, however, feeling each of his breaths rock through her body, every part of her felt alive for the first time in her life.

She curled closer to him, feeling his muscles spasming under the palm of her left hand. For a long while, she just held him, even after the terror seemed to have bled from his body. Consciousness seemed out of reach for him for at least ten minutes, long enough for one of her legs to go numb under his, but not enough for her to want to move the tingling appendage. He smelled warm, and the scent only added to the feeling of coming home, of being whole again. Emotions swelled in her, and she relaxed around him, settling into a state of mind where her only purpose was to calm and comfort him. “Shhh, I’ve got you. Breathe, Harry.”

“Miranda.” Her whole chest clenched when he whined her name and gripped her arm, still completely incoherent as he buried his face closer to her hand, his breath hot and sticky on her arm.

Miranda held on, but began urging him to break the connection. “Harry, let go. You’ve got to let him go.”

As soon as Harry started to stir, Miranda moved him off of her, dragging her thighs apart and forcing herself to once again appear to be the proper lady she’d been raised as. She didn't want him to panic about how intimate their position had been. As it was, she was panicking more than enough for the both of them. "Harry?" She asked softly, brushing his hair out of his damp eyes. He looked at her blearily at first and she smiled gently as his eyes slowly but visibly cleared.

His gaze was intense just moments later, and he stared at her in awe, "How did you do that?"

Fear crept back into Miranda’s world. How could she possibly tell him the truth? She had to tell him something though, didn’t she? And she already cared too much to be able to spin a fantastic story and not feel wretched about it. “I uh…I think you're like me..." She began, having no clue how to explain it all without admitting that her twin brother was probably the monster who had killed Harry’s parents.

"Like you? What do you mean? I wasn't in a room for over fifty years, I know that for sure." He said quietly, his attempt at a sarcastic joke falling flat.

"No, I know you weren’t, Harry. But we were both marked by powerful magic. Magic that left scars." She showed him her scarred hand and he touched his forehead, his eyes still on her skin.

Harry’s green eyes scraped over her permanently damaged skin, at the way it looked so much like how his own flesh was torn, “I’ve never seen another scar like mine.” He squinted slightly, “What’s stranger is I can tell it’s like mine even though it looks normal.”

Miranda nodded in agreement, "Exactly, I noticed yours earlier. I mean those bangs of yours kept it covered a bit, but that’s a bit of a nasty scar. Then again, so is mine. It’s just easier to keep hidden I suppose.”

“How did you get it?” Harry asked, unconsciously shifting closer to her to look at the curves she’d carved into her own hand all those years ago.

Miranda’s mouth went a bit dry, “I marked my brother, we were just kids, and we didn't know what we were doing.” Her breathing hitched, and she rephrased herself, “I didn't know what I was doing. I cut our hands and we pressed them together. Since then, I've been able to find my brother in my sleep. It feels like astral projection, but I can't talk to him, I'm not strong enough. It didn’t really matter back then though, I could see him and that was enough.” She hid her face in her hands. “A boy had just died in our orphanage, I was scared, my brother was scared. We just reacted. I didn't know then that I was invoking dark magic. I didn't have a wand and neither of us knew anything that even resembled a spell. I’m honestly not sure how I did it at all."

Harry reached out and took her scarred hand into his, pulling it away from her face, “Hey, however it happened, you just helped me loads. I honestly thought that time was going to kill me.”

She touched his forehead briefly with the finger tips of her free hand, a soft smile on her face. Her touch left a trail on his skin that made him shiver, even before she started speaking again, "I heard you were in pain, and I saw you clutching your head. Remembered what you said about your parents and this Dark Lord, and I put it together.” She slid her hand out of his, and stared down at her own palms, saying softly, “He really hurt you, didn't he?"

Harry sat up, putting a bit more space between them, though his worry made him want to get closer, "You and your brother, are linked like I am to Voldemort?"

"Yes, sometimes, when he's hurt, I can feel it, but we've been apart for so long, I don't know. I guess our bonds negated each other." Miranda felt herself remembering Alphard from the look on Harry's face, but not in the wistful way she would have expected. A feeling settled in her belly that unsettled her as much as it excited her.

That was the untenable emotion at last declaring itself: lust.

She was lusting after this boy she’d just met, this boy who would probably kill her in an instant if he knew the truth. This boy who looked far too much like the kind of man the woman in her wanted to submit to.

Harry grinned bashfully, unaware of her lurid thoughts, ”Thank you. I don't want to worry Hermione and Ron. They think I've gotten my pain under control. Well, actually, they think that I've blocked the link completely, so there wouldn’t be any pain."

Miranda smiled tightly, "Than it's a good thing I woke up when I did. I'll help you keep it at bay. We should move before they come looking." She stood, and he followed her as she walked down the stairs.

"Hey, Miranda, your brother? Is he still alive?" He asked. They both stopped on the stairs.

She didn't reply for a minute, thinking about how her heart and mind hadn’t decided yet, but then she looked at him, tears welling in her eyes that she furiously blinked away, "Honestly, I don't know."

"I'm sorry." Harry said, and then she couldn't look at him anymore, wiping her eyes and heading to the library to find Hermione. The other girl was happily drowning in books, and Miranda sat with her well into the night, turning the day’s events over and over in her head until the boys dragged them out for another meal before insisting that they go to bed.

As she dragged herself up the stairs, Miranda was distracted by the wood under her fingers. One of the trio had either spelled it clean or wiped it down, but the natural material hadn’t taken kindly to the rough care. She was past the point of exhaustion already so it wasn’t too difficult to retrace her steps and go down the stairs in the kitchen that led to the basement.

The potions room looked better than every other room in the house. The matches were still kept in the same spot, and the candle she lit with a practiced familiarity lit up the darkened space enough for her to take stock of what she had to work with. Obviously someone with a bit of know how had seen to it’s care. Everything was carefully labeled in a distinctive scrawl, and not a single one of the vials or their contents appeared to have been left for long enough for time to ravage. None of the three other teenagers had struck her as having the passion required to keep a supply in such good shape. Even with Hermione around they hadn’t stood a chance at looking this much better than the rest of the house. They were potions ingredients, not books.

“What are you doing down here?” A voice asked from behind her.

In spite of herself, Miranda jumped like a school girl as she spun around, “Bugger, Harry! You’ve just scared the life out of me.” She scowled at the young man, “I’m too tired to be startled like that.”

He gave her a lopsided grin that made her ire disappear instantly, “Sorry ‘bout that.”

Miranda pulled at the hem of her shirt, mentally making note of the fact that she needed to find a new one to wear. The muggle diner uniform shirt was showing every bit of the scuffles she’d been in, as well as every minute of sleeping on the front stoop. “It’s alright.”

Harry settled himself on to the bottom step, “So what are you up to?”

Miranda turned back to the ingredients shelf, poking around as she spoke, “I was going to see if the ingredients were here to make a wood polishing potion. It’s a fairly easy brew, and the wood in this place needs it desperately.” She looked over her shoulder at him, “Who took such care of this room?”

Harry’s expression darkened, but, as much as she suspected it pained him, he told her about Severus Snape, the professor that had betrayed them all.

While he’d given her the biography of the Potions Master, Miranda had begun mixing things into a cauldron, grateful that she still recalled the potion and that it didn’t require anything more than heat from the fire and careful monitoring. Once a bright orange brew smelling strongly of freshly squeezed lemons was left in the bottom of the cauldron, Miranda extinguished the flame beneath it with a flick of her hand.

She could feel Harry’s eyes on her as she carefully suctioned the viscous mixture into a glass jar and screwed the lid on it. “I’ll wipe the cauldron out in the morning. Happy side effect of this brew- your cauldron is left cleaner than it’s ever been after a night with the residue.”

Harry didn’t speak for a few minutes, but it didn’t bother Miranda. She instead set herself to the task of returning the ingredients she’d used back to their proper place and taking a mental inventory of the new layout and what she could do with the ingredients inside.

“Guess I can give you your wand back.” He finally said.

Miranda turned back around to look at him, shrugging one shoulder, “Extinguishing a flame isn’t exactly the most riveting wandless magic. Definitely more difficult without a wand though.” She took a deep breath, “I would certainly rest easier with it. I think Ronald would be quite satisfied to hex me in my sleep.”

“He’s just protective.” Harry told her, but held her wand out to her, looking it over a second longer than he probably should have.

For a few moments they both held her wand, and she had to wonder if he felt the electricity too, wanted to ask if he knew why they existed in the first place. Cowardice won out, however, and she pulled her hand back with just enough tension to prompt him to let go. “Thank you.” She whispered, clutching her wand to her chest. The snake pressed around her wrist under the cuff of her shirt seemed to purr happily at the reunion with it’s old friend. The snake, after all, had often served the dual purpose of giving her sight and taking care of her wand.

Harry smiled at her again, and she was instantly distracted, “Least I can do considering you helping me this afternoon.”

Miranda tried to smile back, but something told her that her smile wasn’t as easy as his was, “It was nothing. I’m sure you’d’ve done the same for me.” She tucked her wand up under her sleeve, barely noticing when the snake twined just a little too tightly around it. “I’ll polish the staircase in the morning.”

“I could help.” Harry offered quickly, “I uh…did a lot of chores growing up.”

This time her smile came easier, “I’d like that.”

They walked in companionable silence up the basement stairs, through the kitchen, and up the stairs to the landing in front of Walburga’s bedroom. “Goodnight, Miranda.” Harry whispered, as if he was afraid to break the hypnotic spell of the darkness surrounding them.

Against her better judgement, exhaustion to be blamed of course, Miranda rocked herself on to her toes and brushed a kiss to his cheek, “Goodnight, Harry.” She didn’t wait to see what, if any, reaction he had to her brazenness, and was asleep in minutes.

It took him a solid ten minutes to move from the spot she’d seemingly rooted him to to go to bed in the living room with the other two.

After breakfast the next morning, Hermione was still gushing, "These are books I've only read about! Some of them were supposedly lost centuries ago.”

“We may never get her out of there.” Harry commented.

“Walburga loved it in there too.” Miranda said as she fingered her wand idly, and spent the next few hours reading next to Hermione, listening to her excitement over the books with a small smile on her face. Having her wand back grounded her, helped her evaluate her new companions more thoroughly.

Hermione was so much like Walburga, a smart, naturally gifted witch with a passion for books and learning. She was also the kind, mothering type, a trait that Walburga had not contained, apparently. She obviously fancied Ron, but the red headed boy was too daft to realize that she felt the same way about him that he felt about her. Miranda knew he was irrational, but only because he was so brave he was stupid and so protective that he would kill for a wrong glance. He was just young, Miranda had a feeling that once he and Hermione finally pulled it together, that he would settle down.

And Harry, Miranda couldn't figure him out. He reminded her so much of Brennan, which made sense if he was who she thought he was, and, at the same time, of Tom and even a little bit of Alphard. Although Alphard had never been any where near as congenial or detailed while cleaning as Harry had been when they’d polished the staircases before breakfast. She had tried quite hard not to blush when he’d marveled at how much better her polish worked than the stuff his aunt and uncle had purchased.

She just couldn’t stop looking at him. He was handsome, but nearly as waif-ish as she was. Malnourished as a child, like she had been. His childhood had not been easy. But she couldn't call her childhood easy either. The orphanage had been a nightmare, but only when Tom wasn't with her. She'd nearly blocked out everything that the boys had done to her, covered over the terror with joy and laughter, but still, she remembered, more vividly everyday it seemed.

Harry, on the other hand, seemed like he had not known kindness for long at all. Miranda couldn't relate to that, she'd had someone that loved her her entire life. She’d had Tom, then her Papa, and, up until the very end, she’d had Walburga. Harry was a mystery, and Miranda knew she wouldn’t be able to stop herself until she’d uncovered every part of him. Never before had she wanted truly know a man, but something about Harry drew her in more and more with every breath she drew in his presence. He was magnetic. And less than two days in to this new chapter in her life, she knew without a doubt that she was completely doomed.


	6. Walburga

Miranda passed Hermione another book from the top shelf, which the girl had asked her to reach for even though Miranda herself was only a scant two inches taller. She had a feeling that it was just to make her feel useful. Past the initial awkwardness, Miranda could see herself becoming good friends with Hermione.

 

She wasn’t the only one keeping an eye on the other inhabitants in the house, apparently, and Harry noticed when she let her gaze travel up the stairs to look at the portrait she’d heard scream obscenities in a horrid mockery of Walburga’s voice. “What was she like? I mean I remember all the things Sirius said over the years, and obviously the painting, but…”

 

Miranda nodded her head, “She wasn’t anything like that.”

 

Harry laughed softly, “I’d have to think that. No way Sirius could have been the way he was with her always being like that awful portrait.”

 

Miranda stood from the chair she’d been sitting in, and walked back into the back of the library. “Walburga’s mother taught us about pensieves, I could show you what she was like back then, if you’re interested.” She returned to the living room with a pensieve on her hip.

 

Harry stared at the bowl, eyebrows furrowed, “Just when I think I’ve seen everything there was to see in this house you open up another hidden door.”

 

Miranda laughed, “You didn’t think this was the stronghold of the Ancient House of Black for nothing, did you? And I only know about half of the tricks this old house has up it’s sleeve.” She sat the bowl down, “Would you like to see them? Your Sirius’ parents, as I remember them?”

 

“I think I would.” Harry said, smiling at her. “You know how to use one of these?”

 

She nodded, “Walburga used to call me a Jack-of-All-Trades. I’m halfway decent at a couple things, know a little about a lot, and never have nearly enough time to be truly brilliant at potions, which is what I actually have a passion for.” Miranda pulled a few threads of memory from her head with her wand, letting them drip into the bowl. She held a hand out to him, “Let’s go then. Nineteen forty-four.”

 

_The memories were easy to fall in to, and Harry was stunned to find them standing in Olivander’s shop where a much younger Olivander, “My, good morning, Miss Black.”_

 

_Harry turned to look at the girl who had just entered the shop. Her coloring was similar to Miranda’s, hair long and dark, but her eyes were the same as Sirius’, and shone with the same zest for life that his had up until the very end._

 

_Olivander ducked into the back room and a slightly younger Miranda ran out and embraced Young Walburga Black. They broke apart and Walburga hugged an elf tightly, who appeared to squeak in surprise and fall off the back side of counter, only to reappear, ruffled, but unharmed back on the counter top just a few feet away. He made a scolding motion to the girls, shaking his head. “Miss Black you should not startle Claudius.”_

 

_Walburga smiled at him, “Oh, come on, you love my hugs.”_

 

_“Claudius does not.” The elf insisted._

 

_Younger Miranda leaned against the counter with a half amused, half bored look on her face while the elf and heiress bantered good naturedly. Walburga finished talking to him, grabbed Miranda’s wrist and pulled her out through the door, waving at Olivander, who had returned from the hall of wands._

 

_Younger Miranda giggled as Walburga led them away from the main road. "Burga, where are we going? Claudius will be mad if we stray too far.”_

 

_"Don't fret about it, we'll be back soon enough. I just need to show you something first." Walburga said._

 

_Younger Miranda shrugged, and smiled, "Alright, just as long as it's not another one of your Black books, you know I can't read half of them.”_

 

_"I know!" Walburga quipped, "You say that all the time. I promise, it's not a book.”_

 

_They'd been walking for nearly ten minutes, ducked into an alley Miranda noted she hadn't ever seen before, when the dilapidated Hog's Head appeared, "Burga, where are we?” Younger Miranda asked while the older one beside Harry looked a little sad, “I've never been this far off the road.”_

 

_“You’ll be fine, Randa, I can protect you. I used to come here all the time, my elder cousin Cassiopeia used to bring me here through a magicked archway in Diagon Alley. I think she fancies the owner. Personally I don't see the appeal, he's a bit on the old side. We're not in London anymore, but I'll have you back soon." She promised as she tugged on the other girl's hand, "Hurry up!”_

 

_Walburga ushered her inside, waving at the man behind the counter, "Hello, Aberforth! Mind if I go to the basement?”_

 

_The man shook his head, "Go ahead, Miss Black. Would you like me to bring down a beverage or two?”_

 

_"No, that won't be necessary. We'll be gone in no more than an hour. Have to get back to school. Cassiopeia is planning on visiting Hogsmead next week, by the way." Walburga said as she walked to a door that apparently led to the inn's basement._

 

_The two teenagers stood awkwardly in the small basement. "Burga, what did you want to show me?" The young girl said, only mildly impatient._

 

_Walburga moved towards an empty spot in the room, her voice low and almost sultry, ”Do remember the boy I've been writing about?" The girl nodded, "I want you two to meet." Walburga finished, pulling what Harry instantly recognized as his Invisibility Cloak off a tall man about Harry’s age with strawberry-blonde hair and familiar green eyes. "This is my boyfriend, Brennan Evans.”_

 

Harry pulled back from the memory, staring at Miranda, who's face was just as dripping wet as his was, “Brennan Evans?”

 

Miranda nodded, “I know the tree upstairs lists Sirius’ father as Orion, but…”

 

Harry blinked rapidly at her, “My mother was Lily Evans. She had the same eyes.”

 

A sort of sick dread made itself known in the back of Miranda’s throat, “I uh…I assumed you knew. Brennan Evans was a muggle born, and when I was locked in the room behind that terrible painting, Walburga was six weeks pregnant with his child. They were going to be married once he came back from the British Navy. I don’t know how it all ended up, but…they loved each other, and she always swore their first son would be named Sirius. I assumed you knew.”

 

“ _Filthy traitor! Back stabber! You swore to never say a word! Silence yourself!”_

 

Miranda looked up the stairs woefully, hearing the achingly familiar voice, "I'm so sorry, Burga, but I have to tell him.”

 

“ _No!"_ The portrait screamed again, the curtains billowing out. Miranda spelled them shut with a whispered word and swish of her wand.

 

"Orion was not Sirius' father.” Miranda told him assuredly, “His father was a muggleborn, Sirius was a half-blood. That photo you showed me the other evening…he may have had Walburga’s coloring, but everything else seems to be Brennan.”

 

“My mother…” Harry whispered.

 

Miranda nodded, "Must have been Brennan's younger brother. I met him once, he was only a child. His name was Robert, they called him Bobby. Brennan doted on him.”

 

She looked back up at the young man, feeling better that she finally knew why he’d seemed so familiar. She’d spent a lot of time with Brennan after all, through much of his and Walburga’s courtship. She’d been to his family home before, where she’d met the little boy who’d shared Brennan’s eyes, eyes he’d passed to his daughter, and then they’d come to rest in the young man she’d been drawn to since the moment she first saw him.

 

Miranda reached out instinctively, taking his hand into hers for the second time in one day, “Oh, Harry, Sirius was Lilly's cousin, he was your cousin, that's what I meant when I said the house was yours. It would have gone to you, through the paternal line. Brennan's line, not Orion’s."

 

Suddenly it made sense to Harry, why he had always felt so good with Sirius, they were actually related, "Thank you." Harry said.

 

Miranda understood. She understood the gap between knowing who you are and just having a gut feeling that you were meant to connect with someone, "You’re welcome.”

 

Harry blinked back tears, and laughed, “I’m really glad you followed us from that diner.”

 

“Sometimes history isn’t exactly as it was written.” Miranda told him, gesturing back at the bowl, “We could keep looking if you’d like. I’ve been so angry at her recently it’s nice to remember just how full of life she was, how funny he was. Brennan wanted to be an actor, he always made me laugh, got the three of us in to trouble when we fumbled behind him in muggle London. Told us all sorts of things that weren’t quite true…nearly got us arrested once.”

 

She continued telling stories for the rest of the morning, and they never touched the pensieve again. They both felt better by the time lunch came around, and Harry spent the afternoon with Ron trying to come up with a plan while Miranda and Hermione read in the study, discussing their own half baked plans as Hermione discovered a world of information that was all beyond what Miranda could really understand. At least one of them could.

 

Both dark haired girls froze, however, when they heard a deep voice from the entry way, "It was not I who killed you, Albus."

 

Hermione jumped up shouting, "Harry!"

 

Miranda followed after a few stunned seconds, feeling like a confused puppy running after it's owner, "Hermione!" She called softly, stopping when she could see the intruder, but he could not see her.

 

Harry was pointing his wand at the middle of a cloud of dust, "Don't move!"

 

Her Papa had trained her well. For him, protecting her had meant nights spent learning strategies of escape and how to stay out of sight. She'd learned how to apperate by the time she turned fourteen. Wandlessly by fifteen. One of the few things she was able to do wandlessly without it being a complete mess. She wasn’t even sure she had managed to replicate Walburga’s memory implantation spell without completely destroying the minds of the two men.

 

Right after Harry yelled, a familiar voice started to yell from the portrait at the top of the stairs, "Mudbloods and filth dishonoring my house-"

 

Ron and Hermione ran down the stairs, stopping behind Harry, just a few steps up from the last. Harry kept his wand pointed at the stranger, "Hold your fire, it's me, Remus!"

 

"Oh, thank goodness," said Hermione weakly, pointing her wand at the portrait and, with a bang, closed the curtains over it. Silence fell.

 

Only Harry did not lower his wand like his two friends had, "Show yourself!" he called.

 

The man moved forward, his hands raised, and his face more clearly illuminated. He was a ragged man, with small scars on the visible skin of his body. She recognized those scars, and felt a shiver of fear run down her back. Her father had had an acquaintance who had scars like that. He had been a werewolf. Fenrir Greyback had terrified her as a child. She'd never liked the way he'd always looked at her. It had reminded her too much of how the boys in the orphanage had looked at her. She wasn't something to eat and she wasn’t anyones play-thing. Greyback had made it more than clear she would be both if he ever got the chance.

 

This werewolf looked different though, sadder, more human, less wolf. But still, her deeper instincts told her to hide, so she pulled back to the top of the stairs, peeking through the bars and, sitting so she could hear their voices and where, if Ron came looking as he usually did when she’d been out of sight too long, they could find her easily.

 

"I am Remus John Lupin, werewolf, sometimes known as Moony, one of the four creators of the Marauder's Map, married to Nymphadora, usually known as Tonks, and I taught you how to produce a Patronus, Harry, which takes the form of a stag."

 

Harry sagged in relief, dropping his wand, "Oh, all right, but I had to check, didn't I?" Miranda relaxed instantly. If Harry didn’t see him as a threat, then he wasn’t. Inexplicably, Miranda trusted his judgment implicitly.

 

The werewolf smiled weakly, "Speaking as your ex-Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, I quite agree that you had to check. Ron, Hermione, you shouldn't be quite so quick to lower your defenses." Then they were all the way down the stairs, Hermione flinging her arms around Remus for a quick hug.

 

She went back to stand next to Ron and Remus looked at the dust on the floor, "No sign of Severus, then?"

 

"No," said Harry. "What's going on? Is everyone okay?"

 

"Yes," The man said, and Miranda noticed that some of the tension in the other three lessened. Hermione, in fact, looked close to tears of relief. "but we're all being watched. There are a couple of Death Eaters in the square outside-"

 

"We know-" Harry said.

 

Miranda had never been one able to keep her mouth shut, something that had gotten her regular scoldings from Walburga’s mother. "They were there earlier, but those are different ones now."

 

Remus raised his wand and pointed it at her, "Who are you?"

 

Harry pulled his mentor's hand down gently, "It's okay, she wants to help us."

 

The older man practically growled, "Is she a Death Eater?"

 

"She's not marked." Hermione said, meeting Miranda in the middle of the stairs. "She hasn't done anything since she got here."

 

"And how did she get here?"

 

Miranda swallowed hard, shoring her bravery, "I followed them, and before you spell me into oblivion, I'd been here before. Except, the last time I was here, there wasn't a Fidelius charm on it, and Walburga Black was nineteen."

 

Remus did the math in his head, "That would have been..."

 

"Fifty four years ago, I was seventeen. I still am, actually." She pointed up to the top of the stairs. "I was in that room, behind that awful portrait, frozen for more nearly three times my life. I woke up four months ago. I saw Harry, Ron and Hermione in the cafe I was working at, they were attacked and I followed them."

 

Miranda didn't know why this man ruffled her feathers so badly, but she just didn't want him to keep glaring at her. "You were in this room because?"

 

She could only tell him what she’d begun telling herself, "Because people I loved thought I wasn't safe out in the world any longer. And I want to help because since I woke up, I thought I'd never be able to come back to the Wizarding world. So now that I know that everything is in a mess, I want to fix it. I want all of this to stop. And I'm not one of the Death Munchers, or what ever they're called. Until the others told me about them, I didn't even know there were such things."

 

Remus looked at her critically, particularly how her hand remained joined with Harry’s, "You really are from then, aren't you?" Miranda nodded, "Then, you must have gone to Hogwarts, what do you know about a boy named Tom Riddle?"

 

"I never went to Hogwarts. I was home schooled." Miranda said, her voice tight, not meeting anyone's gaze. She pulled her hand from Harry’s. She couldn't lie to them, or they wouldn't trust her, but that didn't mean she couldn't leave things out, "I only know about the school what Walburga told me about it, and that wasn't much. She liked to keep her school and home lives separate. As much as she could with Brennan at least."

 

Remus looked disappointed, "Why were you home schooled?"

 

Miranda smiled, it was easier to think about her Papa when she wasn’t thinking about the way he’d trapped her and ruined Walburga’s life in the process, "My Papa was a bit of a survivalist. No school, no being outside without someone watching me, and no friends he didn't approve of. And also, apparently, I was no longer allowed to go anywhere at all. Hence the room behind that lovely painting." She shook the rising anger off, "Enough about me though. I'm here to help you all. What are we going to do now? We can't stay here too much longer."

 

"We'll have to head out soon, that much is true. May I ask, what impossible task Dumbledore has sat upon you all?" Remus asked.

 

"No, you can't." Harry said, a little snappishly.

 

"Alright then, don't tell me, but will four become five?"

 

"No. Is there something going on between you and Tonks? Where is she, anyway?" Harry asked, sizing up his rugged mentor.

 

"No, she's fine, with her parents." The man said tersely.

 

"Why is she at her parent's?" Hermione asked.

 

"She...we...we're having a baby." he said, a dismal look on his face.

 

"Congratulations!"

 

"How great!"

 

Miranda had to hold back her grimace at Remus’ news. She couldn’t help that reaction, it was the same one she had anytime she saw children or pregnant woman. The boys that had hurt her as a child had taken the ability to have children of her own from her. Since she had been fourteen or so, the pang of longing and jealousy had been a constant shadow over her life. Walburga being pregnant had been a hard pill to swallow, but she was a big girl, she could handle it and she wouldn’t hold it against Remus that he, a werewolf, was going to have a child and she never would.

 

Remus only forced a small smile that looked more like the grimace Miranda had smothered. "So...do you accept my offer? Will four become five? I cannot believe that Dumbledore would have disapproved, he appointed me your Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, after all. And I must tell you that I believe that we are facing magic many of us have never encountered or imagined."

 

The rest looked to Harry, Miranda biting her tongue, somehow knowing the cauldron of trouble Remus had just set off. "Just-just to be clear," he said. "You want to leave Tonks at her parents' house and come away with us?"

 

"She'll be perfectly safe there, they'll look after her," said Lupin. He spoke with a finality bordering on indifference. "Harry, I'm sure James would have wanted me to stick with you."

 

"Well," said Harry slowly, "I'm not. I'm pretty sure my father would have wanted to know why you aren't sticking with your kid, actually."

 

The werewolf's face turned white. "You don't understand." He said at last.

 

"Explain, then," said Harry.

 

"I-I made a grave mistake in marrying Tonks. I did it against my better judgment and I have regretted it very much ever since."

 

Harry nodded, and Miranda moved to grab his hand, which he gripped tightly. She understood his anger, and he knew it. What he didn’t know was that the anger in him reminded her of the anger she’d felt in Tom, and only her holding his hand had let the anger flee his body. The same was true for Harry, but it left him coldly calculating, "I see," He said tightly, "so you're just going to dump her and the kid and run off with us?"

 

Lupin sprang to his feet: his chair toppled over backward, and he glared at them so fiercely that Harry saw, for the first time ever, the shadow of the wolf upon his human face. Miranda couldn’t help flinching away from him when he started yelling. "Don't you understand what I've done to my wife and my unborn child? I should never have married her, I've made her an outcast!"

 

The wolf kicked the chair. "You have only ever seen me amongst the Order, or under Dumbledore's protection at Hogwarts! You don't know how most of the Wizarding world sees creatures like me! When they know of my affliction, they can barely talk to me! Don't you see what I've done? Even her own family is disgusted by our marriage, what parents want their only daughter to marry a werewolf? And the child-the child-" He started pulling on his own hair, looking just as deranged as Walburga had. "My kind don't usually breed! It will be like me, I am convinced of it- how can I forgive myself, when I knowingly risked passing on my own condition to an innocent child? And if, by some miracle, it is not like me, then it will be better off, a hundred times so, without a father of whom it must always be ashamed!"

 

"Remus!" Whispered Hermione, tears in her eyes. "Don't say that- how could any child be ashamed of you?"

 

Harry's hand clenched on Miranda's and she fought the urge to pull her hand out of the ferocious grip, but could tell he would truly lose it if she did. She’d only pulled her hand out of Tom’s once while he was angry. "Oh, I don't know, Hermione," he said. "I'd be pretty ashamed of him." This rage was new in Harry, even Miranda could tell that much, and she knew she was the cause. Whatever his connection to her brother, her presence both soothed and agitated it. He continued on, "If the new regime thinks Muggle-borns are bad, what will they do to a half-werewolf whose father's in the Order? My father died trying to protect my mother and me, and you reckon he'd tell you to abandon your kid to go on an adventure with us?"

 

"How- how dare you?" Remus growled, "This is not about a desire for-for danger or personal glory-how dare you suggest such a-"

 

"I think you're feeling a bit of a daredevil," Harry said. "You fancy stepping into Sirius's shoes-"

 

"Harry, no!" Hermione begged him, but he continued to glare into Lupin's livid face.

 

"I'd never have believed this. The man who taught me to fight dementors- a coward."

 

Lupin drew his wand so fast that only Miranda was able to react fast enough, throwing herself in front of Harry. With a loud bang, the pair flew into the kitchen wall, Harry wrapping his arms around her instinctively, her head cracking against the wall over his shoulder as he glimpsed the tail of Lupin's cloak disappearing out the door.

 

"Remus, Remus, come back!" Hermione cried, but Lupin did not respond. A moment later they heard the front door slam. "Harry!" Wailed Hermione, "How could you?"

 

"It was easy." He said, standing up, still holding Miranda in his arms, struggling under her weight, not noticing that she wasn't moving. "Don't look at me like that!" He snapped at Hermione, who's eyes were fixed on Miranda.

 

"Don't you start on her!" Snarled Ron.

 

"Stop it! Both of you!” Hermione yelled, rushing towards Harry, "Harry! Put her down!"

 

It was then that Harry realized that Miranda wasn't moving.


	7. Secrets

Hermione had the other girl sitting on the ground in an instant, touching the back of her head, probing for a wound.

 

Harry stared at her, broken images were racing each other through his mind: Sirius falling through the veil; Dumbledore suspended, broken, in midair; a flash of green light and his mother's voice, begging for mercy; Miranda smiling at him... He couldn't lose anyone else, not even this girl he hardly known for more than two days.

 

Miranda's head hung limply against Hermione's shoulder as the other girl looked at her own fingers, stained with blood. "Harry, she's bleeding." Hermione's voice trembled, high and shrill.

 

Harry scooped her up, marveling at how light she was, and laid her down on the nearby sofa. “Miranda?” He asked, holding her hand while Hermione probed the wound on the back of her head more firmly.

 

Nothing. On the outside she was completely still, on the inside she was back fighting demons she’d thought she’d finally left behind. Phantom hands clutched at her skin, the world was black and she could barely breathe around fabric someone had shoved into her mouth. Her hands were pinned down on the floor by her wrists, and her legs were pinned too far apart. Every inch of her hurt. All she wanted was Tom to save her, but he couldn’t. He never could. They’d said they would kill him, and she never wanted Tom hurt, ever.

 

She didn’t want to hurt Harry either. As soon as she thought about him her demons seemed to release her and the fog started to clear.

 

Miranda shifted on her own, lifting her head from Hermione’s hand a little with a moan, and Harry saw her wince in pain. Hermione sighed in relief, and Ron went back to looking disinterested, "What?" Miranda asked slowly, blinking her eyes as if to clear them.

 

“You hit your head.” Harry said, reaching out to touch her cheek.

 

Miranda sat herself up, “I think I’m fine.”

 

“No, you’re not. You’re bleeding!” Hermione hissed.

 

"Just a little knock." Miranda said as she scooted herself farther up on the sofa and away from Hermione. She rubbed at the back of her head, checking the wound, relieved to feel it swelling under the busted skin. ”A little blood, but it’s swelling outward already. So that’s a good sign. I've had worse, trust me." She took a slow deep breath, "Knocked the breath out of me though." She smiled at Hermione, who was shaking, and had seen something in her eyes that she hadn’t wanted to share, "Relax, Hermione. I didn't mean to scare you. I may be little, but I’m a tough girl."

 

"Just glad you're alright." Hermione said shakily.

 

"I do wonder what your professor was trying to accomplish with a spell that powerful. Could have sent you right through the wall." She looked at Harry sternly, "You shouldn't have called him a coward. It's my experience that most men don't appreciate being called cowards. Insults their egos."

 

Miranda looked a little pale, but she seemed to be alright, especially given that the trio hadn’t heard her sound quite so matronly. "I'm sorry." Harry whispered to her.

 

She squeezed his hand gently, "Don't sweat it. Is your back alright?"

 

Harry nodded, picking up newspaper Remus had brought and leaning up against the sofa to be as close as possible to her while Hermione handed her a towel. He busied himself with examining the picture of the Dumbledore and his family, reading the article as Ron and Hermione exchanged panicked looks and Miranda just sat, holding the towel to the back of her head to stem the bleeding.

 

They'd all forgotten about Kreacher, so when the crack sounded through the kitchen, both girls shrieked, Miranda falling gracelessly out of her chair and Hermione raising her wand. Kreacher disentangled himself from an unfortunate coat rack, and bowed to Harry, "Kreacher has returned with the thief Mundungus Fletcher, Master."

 

Mundungus scrambled up with his wand, only to be disarmed by Hermione, his wand flying into her hand. Ron tackled him in a move that made Miranda give his physical form a second look. The man screamed and wriggled in Ron's grip, "Wha'v I done? Settin’ a bleedin' 'ouse-elf on me, what are you playing at, wha've I done, lemme go, lemme go, or-"

 

Harry cut him off, "You're not in much of a position to make threats." The adult stopped moving and stared up at Harry like a scared child, holding his position as Ron stood up.

 

The elf bowed to Harry again, "Kreacher apologizes for the delay in bringing the thief, Master. Fletcher knows how to avoid capture, has many hidey-holes and accomplices."

 

"You've done really well, Kreacher." Harry said to the elf before returning his attentions to Mundungus, "Right, we've got a few questions for you."

 

"I panicked, okay? I never wanted to come along."

 

"Well, none of the rest of us Disapperated." Hermione snapped, and Miranda was very, very, confused.

 

"Well, you're a bunch of bleedin' 'eros then, aren't you, but I never pretended I was up for killing meself-"

 

"We're not interested in why you ran out on Mad-eye. We already knew you were an unreliable bit of scum." Harry had gotten very close to the man.

 

"Well the, why the 'ell am I being 'unted down by 'ouse-elves? Or is this about them goblets again? I ain't got not of 'em left, or you could 'ave 'em-

 

"It's not about the goblet's either, although you're getting warmer." Harry said, "Shut up and listen." Harry's wand was so close to the man's face that the only thing he could do was gulp and nod his head a little, "When you cleaned out this house of anything valuable-"

 

"Sirius never cared about any of the junk-"

 

Miranda snorted when Kreacher slammed a saucepan on top of the man's head, and was preparing to do it again while the man screamed, "Call 'im off, call 'im off, 'e should be locked up!"

 

"Kreacher, no!" shouted Harry.

 

Miranda swooped forward and scooped up the elf in her arms, "Really, Harry, don't yell at the house elf. It’s uncouth."

 

She held the elf in her arms like a child and he stared up at her, the pan still in his hand's, his eyes as wide as saucers. He blinked a few times, the pan slipping from his grasp and clattering loudly on the floor, "Mistress Miranda?"

 

Miranda smiled at him after she winced at the loud noise and her aching head, "Hello, Kreacher, hush now, let your Master finish talking to the nasty man." The elf clung to her and she hugged him soothingly before setting him at her feet, where he attached himself to her legs like a small octopus.

 

Harry looked at her incredulously for a moment before returning to his victim, "When you stripped this house of all the valuables you could find, you took a bunch of stuff from the kitchen cupboard. There was a locket there. What did you do with it?"

 

The thief's eyes lit up and he moved forward, "Why? Is it valuable?"

 

"Wondering if you should have asked more money for it?" Ron said harshly, but for once, Miranda agreed with him. What ever this locket was, they wanted it, badly.

 

"More? That' wouldn't have been difficult, Ministry hag took it."

 

"What did she look like?" Harry asked.

 

"Little woman, bow on her head, looked like a pink toad."

 

Apparently, the other three knew who he was talking about, each reacting, leaving the man's eyebrows singed and a considerable part of the kitchen floor wet. A few minutes later, when she had composed herself, Hermione obliviated Fletcher and apperated him to the middle of London, returning only a few moments after first cracking away.

 

Kreacher wouldn't let Miranda go, holding onto the hem of her pants as she walked towards Harry, "You alright?"

 

He nodded, "The woman who has the locket, she's bad news, and she knows us, which makes this really hard."

 

Miranda sunk into one of the kitchen chairs, trying to keep the headache at bay by shoving her thumb as subtly as possible into her eye socket, ”If you don't mind me asking, what is so special about this locket?"

 

"It's a Horcrux. I nearly lost the closest thing I had to a grandfather for that thing, and getting it weakened him so much that he was murdered later that same night." Harry said, his mind going back to Snape.

 

She was still confused, "I'm sorry, but if you had it, why are we trying to get it now?"

 

Harry scoffed, "It was a fake, a decoy, meant for the Dark Lord to find and know that the real one was gone."

 

"Kreacher was supposed to destroy it for Master Regelus, but Kreacher failed. Kreacher has Master Regelus' locket now though!" The elf said excitedly, holding the locket up to Miranda. Harry didn't know why, but seeing Miranda treat the elf so kindly, with such dignity made it obvious that she was a lady from another time, a proper lady.

 

She took the locket from Kreacher while looking at Harry, and when she looked down at the fake Horcrux she recoiled, "This is the Horcrux?" Harry nodded. 

 

Miranda felt the tears well up in her eyes, but refused to let them fall. They would be too hard to explain, and they were something she literally couldn’t explain without giving up her secret. She had to say something though, had to share as much as she could, "I've seen this locket before, it was mine, a long time ago. I lost it when my Papa took me from the orphanage, I assume I dropped it." Miranda traced the S in the center of the locket with a finger, longing coursing through her for the real one, which had thrummed in her hands just as much as the snake on her wrist. ”I haven't seen this in years. It belonged to my mother."

 

She realized she'd said too much when she looked at Hermione and could practically see the gears turning in the girl’s head. She rushed to cover herself, handing the locket back to Kreacher, pretending it meant nothing more to her than a little girl’s trinket, no matter how much it pained her, "How would your Dark Lord have gotten a hold of it, and why would he have used it as a Horcrux?" She knew why, because somewhere, deep in the back of his mind, Tom must have remembered that it had been hers, and had sought it out.

 

"We think the S is for Slytherin, it must have been his, and Riddle got his rocks off using his idol's things for a Horcrux. How did you end up with it in the interim?" Ron said, and Miranda couldn't shake the awkward feeling she got when he spoke her last name in reference to her brother doing sordid things.

 

"I don’t know. The locket was on my mother when she died, she was a destitute drifter, I have no clue where she would have gotten it from." Miranda said, stroking Kreacher's head with her hand idly, occupying herself so she wouldn’t have to look them in the eyes as she lied to them again. They had no idea the power that lay in the locket. No idea what she’d been able to do with it because she was who she was. How she’d dazzled Brennan with it the first time they’d been alone so she could determine how he had felt about her friend. In some ways that locket was the most powerful magical object she’d ever had her hands on, her wand included. It had been the first too. Hers since the day she was born.

 

Kreacher hugged her legs again, distracting her from her spiraling thoughts, "Kreacher is so glad to see Mistress Miranda again, the 'ouse has gone to the dogs it has, bloody Sirius messing up Mistress' things."

 

"Kreacher!" Miranda scolded, dropping to her knees, her dark skirts billowing around her, "I will not stand to have you speak ill of your Mistress' son, you know how much she loved him. You do her tolerable poor, talking like that."

 

The elf hung his head, "Kreacher will go punish himself now."

 

"No, you won't, you need to get to cleaning this place. It's been made a mess of. I expect it spotless by the end of the next fortnight." She hugged the elf again, "Go on now, you."

 

He smiled a crooked grimace of a smile that was the most positive thing Hermione had ever seen from the elf, "Yes, Mistress.”

 

He disappeared into the house and Miranda smiled weakly at the trio, “My head is killing me. I’m going to brew a quick pain relieving potion downstairs and head to bed.”

 

Hermione shook her head and started digging in the bag she always kept with her, and Miranda had to stop her eyes from popping out go her head when Hermione’s whole arm disappeared. “No, I’ve got some paracetamol in here that should fix you up before you go to bed.”

 

The ensuing minutes of confusion and instruction were more than enough to have Harry and Ron both smiling, and by the time she made it up the stairs Miranda’s head had already stopped aching quite so badly. She had tucked herself in to bed when the temperature in the room dropped suddenly. “You gave away my secret. I kept it hidden for so long.”

 

In the middle of the bedroom stood Walburga Black, exactly as she had looked in 1944, only silver in color and slightly transparent, a ghost who had hidden herself for years in her own home. Miranda's anger and hurt at her best friend got the best of her, flaring violently, "Why would I have kept it? You locked me in a room and left me there!”

 

The beautiful ghost stared at her long lost friend, looking near tears, "I didn't have a choice, Miranda, you have to understand. He said it was the only way to keep you safe.”

 

"I could have lived as your long lost cousin, we look enough alike.” Miranda snapped, sitting up in the bed.

 

"I know, I offered that, but he said it wouldn't work. And then he offered me something I couldn't refuse." Walburga looked her friend in the eyes, trying to make her understand without making her say the words.

 

"He killed your mother for you, didn't he? He put her out of her misery of a slow and painful death." Miranda choked on a laugh, "I don't suppose I can be angry at you, can I? You locked me away, to keep me safe, so that your mother wouldn't have to suffer any longer. It seems like the only one who lost anything was you.”

 

Walburga nodded, looking down at her spectral hands, "I lost so much.” She looked back up, “Do you know why I'm in this form?" Miranda nodded sadly, but Walburga continued anyway, "I died when he did, and when our precious son was born, I had to stow him away. I had nothing. When you die, you return to the form that was most familiar. Usually, it's the state you were in when you died, but me..." She sighed and her breath came out in a frosty fog, "This was the last time I was ever really alive." She looked at the closed door wistfully, "The portrait was to keep you safe. Your father had me affix and curse it so no one would go poking around.”

 

Miranda sighed, ”You said you hid your son away, after his father died? But Orion was alive and Sirius was always here.”

 

"I did the same thing to him that I did to Miranda. After I killed Brennan, I was married to Orion, but you know I was already pregnant. I hid it, and then I hid him. Sirius replaced another in a devastatingly long line of miscarriages and stillborns. Only you, Kreacher, and Brennan even knew of his existence in 1944." Walburga explained.

 

Miranda stared at her in horror, "You just said you killed Brennan.”

 

Grief colored Walburga’s face, "You heard me correctly. I killed him. My father would have killed us both otherwise, and in doing so, he would have killed Sirius too." Tears welled in her eyes, “Brennan begged me to do it, for Sirius. That was the kind of man he was. He would rather have died by my hand than have Sirius and I in danger.” She smiled, that smile that came from a deranged woman barely clinging to her last shred of sanity, "I had to save my baby, and I did. He's a good man, my Sirius, they both were. But my poor, poor Regulus, went and got himself murdered by the Dark Lord." The two old friends exchanged a look, pain in both their eyes, for one's brother had killed the other's son. “I’m sorry for what I’ve done.” Walburga’s ghost whispered, “Can you ever forgive me?”

 

Miranda nodded, “I already have.”

 

Walburga gave her a tight smile as she started to fade, “The spell to disenchant the portrait is in your favorite book. Live your life, Miranda. Do it better than I did.”

 

Sleep after that encounter was fleeting, but there was a closure that Miranda hadn’t known she’d needed. After an hour or so of tossing and turning she was finally drawn in to a deep sleep.

 

In the next weeks, the house was cleaned thoroughly and Ron had finally admitted that, when cleaned, it was sort of a lovely place. His quiescence had given Miranda a thrill, and she had laughed for an hour, Ron screeching at her the whole time. Hermione had just watched them, a bemused smile on her face. Ron and Miranda didn't get on, per say, he didn't trust her enough, but their was a levity in their spats now, like siblings teasing one another.

 

For the first few weeks of their cohabitation, Hermione had felt threatened by Miranda, but had come to realize that she didn't spend near as much time staring at Ron as she did Harry, so the girls had easily become close. Kreacher had been another improvement, he was actually civil to Hermione now, and often sat with them at night, sitting at Miranda's feet, who obviously cared about him. She had explained that although he was annoying and hard to live with, she had always loved how faithful he was, and had followed Walburga's views on the treatment of him. Hermione had learned a bunch about Sirius' mother, and her passion for house elves. The Walburga the world had known hadn’t been anything like the girl Miranda described, but it certainly explained Sirius a lot more clearly.

 

It took a couple of weeks, but Hermione finally managed to liberate Miranda from the button down dark colored dresses with full long skirts she’d taken to wearing that harkened back to the riding habit of the early twentieth century. “There you go!” Hermione cried, moving out of the way so Miranda could see herself in a mirror.

 

Miranda blinked at the girl staring back at her in shock. The outfit Hermione had transfigured for her was a pair of sleek black trousers Hermione had called leather with a pale blue shirt whose sleeves rolled up to the crook of her elbows and whose bottom hem fell below her bum. Miranda felt of the material as it slid over her skin, and whispered. “Wow.”

 

Hermione beamed, “I’m so glad you like it!”

 

“I love it.” Miranda commented in amazement, straightening the magicked snake that had taken up residency as an ouroboros on her wrist since she’d gotten her head slammed against the wall. The outfit was like nothing she’d ever worn, and Hermione had spent all day fussing over it, using the crafting of something specifically for Miranda to keep her thoughts off the outside world. It had worked, and the brilliant young witch’s results were magnificent. Certainly it was below her intellect, but Hermione would have made a fantastic fashion designer. Yes, Miranda had transfigured herself clothes as a girl, but they had always been copied off something she had in her closet so that she could remember what it felt like to wear it. Hermione had transfigured a pile of black cloth from Miranda’s mourning garb into something completely new.

 

“Try these on.” Hermione requested, holding out a black pair of boots that seemed too thin to provide much protection, but they were incredibly comfortable when Miranda slid them onto her feet and did up the laces. “There’s cushioning and temperature controlling charms on those.” Hermione added, addressing Miranda’s unvoiced questions.

 

“You are incredible.” Miranda said in awe, standing to her full height and looking down at a body she hadn’t truly noticed in years. She wasn’t ignorant to the fact that most considered her beautiful, it was a common opinion that had caused her unfathomable pain as a child, but now, as a woman dressed in clothes that flattered rather than concealed, she felt different. She walked down the stairs awkwardly, unused to the feeling of wearing trousers, and she felt oddly exposed even though no more skin could be seen than before. That feeling vanished with the first appreciative look she’d gotten from Harry. 

 

“Miranda?” He asked, as if he couldn’t believe that the modernly dressed girl was the same as the one who had previously favored more Victorian garb.

 

“Hermione transfigured them for me.” Miranda explained nervously.

 

“You look fantastic.” He admitted.

 

Miranda tugged at the bottom hem of her shirt, “Seems kind of silly to get new clothes when the only people I see are you three.”

 

“Your clothes were unusual and conspicuous.” Hermione said from behind her, also dressed in new looking clothes, “This way, you can go out shopping and no one will look twice at you!”

 

“She’s not going alone.” Harry said instantly. They compromised easily, and whenever Miranda left, either Hermione or Harry were hidden under the Invisibility Cloak, an item Miranda had to bite her tongue to prevent herself from reminiscing about too much or she was bound to again give away more than she intended. He was just too blasted easy to talk to.


	8. Obliviate

Spring 1944 came too fast, ”Papa, I need to rest.” Miranda gasped, kneeling on the dirt where his spell had flung her. They’d started dueling at noon and the sun had already started to set. She was exhausted, but he had just gotten more and more belligerent.

 

“Get up.” He hissed at her.

 

Miranda looked up at him in shock. “Papa?”

 

“I said get up!” He yelled, wand raised in front of him.

 

Miranda scrambled to her feet, lunging for her own wand. Never before had she truly feared her Papa, but he’d come home different this time. He was angry. His eyes were empty. She should never have followed him outside with the way his face had looked, but she had never seen him like this to even know what to expect. “Papa?” Miranda begged again, but he didn’t even blink in response.

 

He raised his wand again, “Stupefy!”

 

“Protego!” She shrieked, stumbling across the open courtyard with no real destination. As was usual for their dueling sessions he had sealed the exits when he had demanded she join him. The only way out was up, and, even if she could ride one, she didn’t have a broom.

 

“Expulso!” He shouted, and the tree next to her blew up, the force of the explosion slamming her into another sturdy tree.

 

Pain coursed through her face as her lip split open, and through her side as one of her ribs broke. Blood spurted from her mouth and she had no choice but to lay there for a moment. Pain hadn’t been her companion for so long that she was stunned by it. The need to save herself won out though and she gripped her wand, gurgling, “Stupefy.”

 

He hit the ground.

 

Never had she ever gotten the better of him, but she couldn’t enjoy the victory. Her eyes drifted shut, and the next thing she knew he had crawled to her and cradled her face in his hands, “Oh, Pet. There you are, there’s a good girl.”

 

He had healed her ribs and her face, but the exhaustion lingered and she just stared up at him blearily, “Papa?”

 

“I should never have come home in such a state, Pet.” He whispered, brushing her hair out of her eyes, “I’ve tried to protect you all these years, and I’m the one who’s hurt you.”

 

“You healed me.” Miranda told him, pulling her knees closer to her chest so she could curl closer to him.

 

“I thought you were safe here. It couldn’t harm you here.” He muttered, leaning over to press his forehead in to hers, breathing in the clean scent of her dark hair.

 

“I’m alright, Papa.” She insisted, but her exhausted brain was struggling to keep up with his words, “Why would anyone want to harm me?”

 

He laughed. Loud enough to scare her before he stopped and forced her to sit up, “You were so damaged when I found you, Miranda. I thought you might have been…but you weren’t. Not entirely. I thought you saved him, but I was wrong. He saved you. Barely. Your tremendous latent powers were on the cusp, and, though I suspected they might wane, they didn’t. There’s a creature that you would be a great prize for. You are _my_ prize.” He kissed her on the forehead, “Obliviate.”

—————

Ever since Hermione had banished her ‘unusual’ and ‘conspicuous’ clothing and suited her with more modern clothing, Harry had been staring even more than he had before. Oddly, Miranda found that she didn’t mind at all, and, in fact, she loved feeling his eyes brush over every inch of her exposed body. At first the tightening in her gut had upset her, but now it was a daily game she played with herself to note which clothes kept Harry staring longest. Though she would never admit it, somedays, she dressed with the intention of keeping him distracted all day. She knew she shouldn’t, that none of them could afford distraction, but she just didn’t care.

 

One morning, Harry had gone to get a copy of the Prophet and watch the Ministry with his cloak, and Miranda had been restless ever since. She generally went with him when he went out, walking freely through London with him under his cloak beside her. He had left before she had woken that morning, for some reason, and had been gone for hours. That left Miranda shifting in her chair, paying minimal attention to Ron and Hermione’s discussion and rubbing her scarred hand as if it hurt. Her blue eyes kept flicking to the door. Kreacher had tried to force some tea and sandwiches down her an hour earlier, but she had ignored it, and when it had gotten cold, he had taken it and poured it out, grumbling about wasteful witches and no appreciation for fine tea. She’d done the same thing when her papa had been gone for longer than he’d said he would be, refused to eat, drink, sometimes even sleep until he came back.

 

Finally they heard Harry come back in, and Miranda jumped out of her chair, rushing to meet him as he trotted to the kitchen, leaving Ron and Hermione with their research papers strewn on the floor. His face was grim, but he spared her a glance, “Hey, Miranda. You alright there?”

 

Miranda nodded, not willing to admit to the tension his return had released in her body, “Peachy. Glad you’re back unscathed.”

 

He raised his eyebrows for a second and shook his head as his friends joined them, ”I almost wish I wasn’t. I have news, and you're not going to like it."

 

Kreacher rushed to Harry, wearing the towel Hermione had convinced him to don instead of his previous wear, "Shoes off, if you please, Master Harry, and hands washed before supper."

 

"What's happened?" Ron asked.

 

Harry slammed the newspaper on the table, sending more of their paper flying off it. 'SEVERUS SNAPE CONFIRMED AS HOGWARTS HEADMASTER'

 

"NO!" The other two coursed loudly. Hermione snatched up the paper and read the story aloud, but Miranda wasn't listening, she was watching the emotions flicker across Harry's face. Hurt, betrayal, love. Snape had killed the man he'd thought of as family, the last one he had after Sirius.

 

Hermione was furious, "Like committing murder and cutting off people's ears, I suppose! Snape, headmaster! Snape in Dumbledore's study-Merlin's pants!" The boys jumped as she cut herself off and ran for the hallway, yelling, "I'll be back in a minute!"

 

Ron whistled softly, "'Merlin's Pants?' She must be upset."

 

"She should be, Phineas Nigellus was a Headmaster, he has a painting here in the house too, up in the study. He could be sent to spy on us by Snape." Miranda concluded, keeping up with Hermione’s train of thought better than the two males. She offered, “I could try to talk to him, he did know me after all, but it’s best to keep him in the dark for now.”

 

Hermione came back, panting, but smiling in exhilaration, "Exactly," She shoved the painting in her hand bag, "Now he'll only see the inside of my purse."

 

Ron smiled, "Nice, 'Mione."

 

"What happened today?" Miranda asked, reaching out to touch Harry, something she’d started to realize that she always did when he got upset.

 

"Watched the Ministry, saw your dad." Harry said, nodding his head at his best friend  and putting his hand over Miranda’s when she rested it on his shoulder.

 

Ron looked relieved, communication was too dangerous, and they wouldn't let Miranda talk to him out of fear of him not believing her. "Dad always told us most Ministry people use the Floo Network to get to work. I can't see Umbridge walking to work, she thinks she's too important."

 

"And what about that funny old witch and that little wizard in the navy robes?" Hermione asked.

 

Ron smiled in recognition, "Oh yeah, the bloke from Magical Maintenance. I remember seeing him."

 

"How did you know he works for Magical Maintenance?" Hermione said, watching the back of his head, taking a step closer to him.

 

"Everyone in the Department of Magical Maintenance wear navy robes." He said, shoving food in his mouth, which Miranda had found was far from unusual.

 

"You never told us that!" Hermione cried, hitting him on the back of the head with her purse, which left the boy slightly stunned.

 

"W-what does it matter?" He sputtered.

 

"Ron, it all matters! That's why having Miranda here is so useful, she can get closer, no one is looking for her. So, yes, knowing if the color robes identify the department is important. We've been over this!"

 

Ron looked properly cowed, "Blimey, Hermione, I forget one little thing-"

 

"One little thing about going into the place that is one of the most dangerous places for us to be-"

 

"We should do it tomorrow." Harry said, which Miranda had been expecting, he'd been eerily anxious for the last few days. Hence her anxiety at him being gone alone for so long. The other two just gapped at him, "The longer we put it off, the farther away the locket could be. We're as ready as we're going to be, we are as prepared as we can be. We know Apparition is out of the question, we know where Umbridge's office is...roughly, and we know that those coins are our tickets in."

 

"Harry, I understand, but so much could go wrong! So much relies on chance and..."

 

"Than please, let me help!" Miranda begged, "I can help you, please!"

 

Harry turned on her, their hands falling apart, ”No! We've told you a thousand times! You can't help us!"

 

"I could help you, if you’d let me. I can to more than just walk around London. You like staring at me all the damn time, but still, after all this time, you don't trust me!" Miranda screamed at him before running up the stairs.

 

Hermione glared at Harry, "Nice job, Harry, you didn't have to be a git about it!"

 

He shrugged, "You shouldn't come either, you know, Hermione."

 

She looked at him aghast, "Oh, don't start that again! I thought we'd settled this!"

 

"'Mione, you're on the list of Muggle-borns who didn't present themselves for interrogation!"

 

Hermione rolled her eyes, "That's rich, Ronald, you're supposed to be dying at the Burrow! And Harry's got a price on his head!"

 

Harry through up his hands, "Fine, I'll stay here. let me know if you ever defeat Voldemort, won't you?"

 

Ron and Hermione laughed, but Harry's scar suddenly hurt. He touched it, trying to pass it off as if he was brushing his hair out of his eyes. Ron discussed how to get to the Ministry, but Harry didn't hear them, his scar was becoming more and more painful. He stood up and Kreacher hurried forward, talking to him, he brushed him off, "I'll be back in a minute- er- bathroom."

 

He hurried up the stairs to the hall and then to the first landing, where he dashed into the bathroom, only to see it already in use. Miranda had stuck her face in the sink so she stood there looking at him, water running down her face and dripping from her dark hair, onto her burgundy shirt, making the material cling to her skin. "Harry?" She asked, covering her chest with her arms.

 

He clutched at his head and fell to the floor at her feet. She sighed tightly, and reached behind him, shutting the door and dragging him to sit on the closed toilet. "Oh, Harry. Again?" She asked him, her anger and frustration melting away at his pain. It was the third time since they had begun their Ministry investigation. Tom was angry, people weren't telling him what he wanted to hear, so he had started out on his own for information. Last she had checked, he was in Germany, but she couldn't tell why it was getting harder and harder for her to reach him, like he was becoming less and less Tom and more Voldemort.

 

She held Harry’s hands in hers as he entered her brother's mind, stroking her scarred hand over his forehead. Before, she’d always just sat and held him, keeping him quiet so the others wouldn't panic, but something was different this time. Suddenly she was in his vision, with him, in Tom.

 

He was walking along a street lined with what looked like gingerbread houses. He walked to one of them and knocked. The door opened, and an older woman opened it, the smile falling from her face, "Gregorovitch?" He said and the woman shook her head, trying to close the door.

 

"He no live here! He no live here! I know him not!"

 

"Where is he?"

 

"He move! I know not, I know not!" She sheltered a bunch of children behind her as the door gave way. It wasn’t enough, it would never be enough.

 

He raised the wand. She screamed, Miranda screamed.

 

Downstairs, Ron and Hermione jumped up from their meal, they'd heard Miranda scream and then Harry had started shouting. They sounded like they were being attacked. Hermione banged on the bathroom door, "Harry! Harry! What's going on? Miranda!" It was quiet inside the bathroom, and that worried them even more.

 

Ron broke the latch on the door with his shoulder, and they both tumbled in.

 

Miranda was on the floor in Harry's arms, wet, sobbing like a terrified child, and Harry just rocked with her in his arms. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." Harry whispered.

 

Miranda didn't say anything, and Hermione just knelt next to them, "Harry, what happened?" He didn't say anything, "Harry, please, tell us what happened. Did you have another vision of Him? Please don't insult our intelligence. Are you two okay?"

 

"Fine, we've just seen Voldemort murdering a woman. By now he's probably killed her whole family. And he didn't need to. It was Cedric all over again, they were just there..." He snapped, brushing Miranda's hair from her wet, tear stained face, "And you were there, I felt you."

 

Miranda turned her face into his shirt, looking at the others was too much. She'd felt her brother, instead of just seeing him do those things. It was different, and she couldn't shake the image of that poor woman out of her mind. And the children, they were dead too, just because they were there.

 

"Harry, you aren't supposed to let this happen anymore! It's dangerous, Dumbledore thought so. What good is it to watch him kill and torture? How can it possibly help?" Hermione barked.

 

"Because it means I know what he's doing." He replied, lifting Miranda off the ground, moving past the others to take her to her room. There was a reason he'd never told Ron and Hermione exactly what he saw, but Miranda, she'd seen it now, the evil. She kept getting hurt because of him. First with what Remus did that had left her with a headache for almost a week, and now she was so terrified she couldn’t even speak.

 

"So you're not even trying to shut him out?" Hermione yelled, following him, Ron close behind.

 

"I can't, Hermione, and I've tried. I really have, it’s just... I'm just lousy at it." He put Miranda on her bed and covered her with a quilt.

 

"You never really tried!" Hermione said hotly, "I don't get it, Harry- do you like having this special connection or relationship or- what- whatever-"

 

She faltered under the look he gave her when he stood up, "Like it? Would you like it?"

 

She stepped away, "No, I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

 

He pushed past her and stood by the door till they exited and he could close the door to give Miranda some privacy. He kept his back to the door so he could pretend he was protecting her from something. "I hate it, I hate the fact that he can get inside me, that I have to watch him when he's most dangerous. But I'm going to use it. This is my choice, nobody else's. I want to know why he's after Gregorovitch, he's a foreign wandmaker, but I know he's got Olivander. He must not know what my wand did when he was chasing me, so he's going after someone else who might know."

 

Hermione slipped into exasperation, "Harry, you keep talking about what your wand did, but you made it happen! Why are you so determined not to take responsibility for your own power?"

 

"Because I know it wasn't me! And so does he, Hermione! We both know what really happened!" They glared at each other. "Drop it, It's up to him. And if we're going to the Ministry tomorrow, don't you reckon we should go over the plan?" Hermione let it rest and she and Ron headed down the stairs.

 

Harry went back into Miranda’s room, and looked at Miranda, still quivering on her bed. He’d done that to her. Feeling dreadful, he sat next to her so he could see her tear stained face, "Are you alright?"

 

She nodded slowly, clutching the quilt he’d covered her with tightly to her chest, "I'll be okay. I just...don't understand how someone could do something so terrible to innocent children and their mother." She looked up at his face, "I'm sorry you have to see things like that, you shouldn't have to."

 

He nodded, "I have to though, I have to watch him, I have to know where he is."

 

"I know." Miranda pulled at her still damp hair with her fingers and sat up, wiping her face with the back of her hands, "I understand.”

 

“You do?” Harry asked.

 

Miranda smiled at him, sure the expression didn’t reach her eyes, “Be careful tomorrow, won't you?"

 

He smiled at her, "I will, we need to go over the plans again, but you should rest. Think this time took more out of you than it did me. If you want though, can I say goodbye in the morning?"

 

Miranda shook her head, looking away from his green eyes, ”I’d rather you didn’t. If you all are adamant on leaving me here, I'd rather not make a big scene about seeing you off."

 

He sighed, disappointed but too tired to fight with her, "Okay, sleep well than, I'm sorry you had to see what I saw tonight." She looked down at her scarred hand. Harry covered the hand with his own, and gave it a tight squeeze.

 

That wasn’t enough for Miranda. Before he knew what was happening, she had thrown her arms around his neck and buried her face in the side of his neck, kneeling next to him on the bed. She sat back on her heels a split second later, and looked up at him through her thick lashes, "Goodnight, Harry."

 

Dazed, he nodded, “Night Miranda.” He suddenly couldn't get away from her quick enough, and spent until very late that night with Hermione and Ron, studying their plan, nearly memorizing it word for word. They would do it tomorrow, they would start to defeat Voldemort by finding and destroying the Horcruxes.

—————————

Voldemort was thrilled, Draco had finally found the remains he’d requested, and brought them and the mediwizard to the Manor. Just days before he was due back at Hogwarts too. How convenient for him.

 

The wizard he brought with him was a scared, balding, rotund man. Draco shoved him to his feet in front of the Dark Lord, "The mediwizard, and the woman's bones, as you requested, my lord." He nodded the boy away and he practically ran from the room.

 

"You know who I am, no?" He asked the trembling man who reminded him of Peter.

 

"Yes, you are the Dark Lord." The man said, keeping his head down, "Are you going to kill me?”

 

"Only if you prove dis-useful.”

 

The man eyed the plain wooden coffin next to him, "I hope I can be of use.”

 

"I want to know everything you can tell me about this body." He said, cutting out all of the blubbering that the man was sure to try for his life.

 

The man looked relieved to have been given a task and sat to pulling the top of the coffin off. He looked at the bones appraisingly, "Female, approximately twenty years of age. Judging by the stage of decomposition, the remains are over fifty years old. What are you looking for, exactly?" The man paused, "M-my lord?”

 

"Did she have children?”

 

The man looked back at the bones, "Yes, my lord, she died shortly after, her pelvis shows no signs of remodel…"

 

"How many?”

 

"Excuse me? How many? Children?" The man laughed, "I could only find that out if I had my wand back. There are detailed spells I could cast.”

 

Voldemort thrust the man's wand at him, "Be aware, if you try to run, you will be killed most painfully. Do as you must.”

 

The man gulped, "Yes, my lord.”

 

He began a weaving of spells over the bones, pausing to let them fall into place over them. "Two, my lord. She had two children at the same time, shortly before her death, twins. One a boy-“

 

"And the other a girl." Voldemort finished, smiling to himself.

 

"Yes, my lord, a girl. May I ask, how did you know?”

 

"No, you may not ask." Voldemort said, pointing his wand at the man, "Avada Kedavra!" The man slumped to the ground, "And you shall not know." So, the girl was his sister, Tom had hidden things from him. "Tom, did you think you could hide her from me forever?" Voldemort asked as he delved in to the recesses of his mind, and Malfoy Manor faded away.

 

It was a dark room, lit only by a glowing light in the center, the space black and unending. It was imaginary, of course, he controlled the body, and this space held all that was left of the other. It was their room, and covering those black walls was dried blood. Thomas Marvolo Riddle was standing in the corner, holding a broken arm close to his body, from the last assault Voldemort had taken upon him. A spiteful sneer graced his handsome young face, "For as long as I could, you bastard.”

 

Voldemort laughed, and it shook the air around them. "Still so defiant, Tom, even after all the years we’ve been together. I had thought we would become friends, you and I. I had such high hopes. But still, you keep things from me.”

 

"I won't let you hurt her." The boy growled.

 

"Who says I'm going to hurt her?" Voldemort said, with faux innocence on his face.

 

"I know you. She's too strong though, she always was. You'll never take her." Voldemort slammed the boy into a wall.

 

"That's the funny thing, Tommy boy, I have all of your memories up until when you gave yourself to me, but I have none of her. Tell me, how is that?”

 

"Never." Tom growled, and Voldemort punched him in the face.

 

"Would you like to try that again, Tom?”

 

Tom spit blood out of his mouth onto the black floors, with a maniacal laugh, "You were too busy with your precious Nazi's. You left Gellert alone for too long. He was smarter than I am.”

 

Voldemort winced, "I never could control him, he was too powerful. Adolf, now he was a fun toy to play with." He pat Tom on the cheek, "Not nearly as fun as you though. I could only influence Gellert. I had him search you out. I'm guessing he found both you and your sister." Tom's silence was answer enough, and his knowledge of Gellert filled in the rest. "He took her and Obliviated you, didn't he?" The snake-man cursed under his breath, "I knew I should have spent more time with him. The muggle was just too easy to corrupt. Gellert must have subconsciously wanted to find me a host so I would leave him and his Greater Good Albus alone, and I fell for it. I never could get into his thick skull. Clever, clever boy.”

 

He smiled at Tom, "That's why it's so hard to find a good host, they have to be young or they're too tough. You, you, my boy, were easy prey. Gellert did half the work for me, made you weak, hateful and alone. I'll give the old boy that. But he took the girl." He stepped away from the manifestation of his body's original soul, the one piece he couldn't seem to get rid of. "I'll have to go visit him. Perhaps he can help me.”

 

The creature that called himself Voldemort disappeared, returning to the real world, leaving a bleeding Tom alone. "I can't let him hurt her." He mumbled to himself. "Why did I do this?”

 

When the Dark Lord had first come to him at Hogwarts, he had been so alone, and had just wanted it all to go away. For years, the dark entity had guided him through life, helped him find the 'truth' of his parents, and broken him. When he had wished it all away, when he had tried to take his own life, the Thing had taken his body over. This void had been his home since then, his body stuck doing that creature’s bidding. For decades, Tom had been forced to watch his body destroy lives, but that had all changed when Voldemort had gone after the Potters. When the spell had back fired, and Tom's original body had been obliterated, his memories of his sister had been restored. As a loose spirit, he had run from Voldemort for years, but he had found him anyway and drug him back into this monster of a body.

 

Tom had thought Harry had freed him, had blessed the infant for setting him free from his prison, had mourned Lilly Potter's sacrifice. That night in the graveyard, Tom had seen himself in Harry Potter, but he knew the boy had people where Tom had had none, he would be okay. With Voldemort out of his head, memories of Miranda had flooded his mind, and when he'd been forced back in that body with Voldemort, he had made her his most guarded secret.

 

Already, he could tell that Voldemort was going to step the torture back up. The black void got smaller and smaller until it was around him like a coffin, the air warm and thin. He was used to this. It's what Voldemort did to him when he was angry at him, boxed him up. Tom just used it as time to feel for Miranda. He was getting better at it, and he'd started pulling her to him in her sleep because she'd been reaching for him too. They could never see each other, but Tom always knew she was there and hid her from Voldemort. He could feel her emotions, she was worried, but still felt in control. He could stand this, as long as she was okay, as long as Voldemort couldn't get his hands on her. He would rather them both die in this snake thing than let Miranda get hurt.


	9. The Ministry of Magic

Back at Grimmauld Place, the Trio woke early that next morning and left soon after, Miranda watching from her window, her arms crossed over her chest.

 

As soon as the others had gone to bed, Miranda had woken up and initiated what had to be the most stupid plan she’d ever come up with. She was going to be of help wether they liked it or not. Harry couldn’t stop her if he didn’t know her plan, and she knew almost every part of theirs. She’d been coming up with her plan for days, listening to them while they made their plan and assumed she was occupied brewing a potion.

 

A few days earlier she'd rummaged through a storage room and found a trunk of Burga's old clothes. Times may have changed, but there was no time in which a black pencil skirt wasn't appropriate. She had her story ready, her way in, and, as soon as the others Disapperated, she rushed to dress herself.

 

Examining her appearance in the mirror, Miranda blessed her crazy parents for their good genes, minus the apparent insanity that had claimed her brother. She had magicked her hair to curl in the same curls that Hermione sported, only darker and far more manageable, pulled into pigtails low on her skull, giving her face a wide, innocent look. She was wearing one of Walburga's old skirts fitted to make her look like a little girl unaware of her more...natural charms, clinging in all the right spots. Her white button up shirt reflected the same style, the black tank under it serving to highlight her chest.

 

She watched the silver snake bracelet unravel and move up her arm to rest around her neck like an ancient torc. It's red eyes glinted in the the light of the room. The snake pulsed heat once before settling on it's host with a yawn, exposing tiny silver fangs. Over the years, her only constant article had grown with her, longer every year, and had then begun to move on it's own. She was used to the snake by now, it's warm body always touching her skin, it's red eyes making her own usable.

 

It was a magical piece, and it had almost always hidden itself from view, but now it displayed itself prominently on top of her thin collarbone. She wished she could ask it why, but this was the only snake that never spoke to her, it had never said a word to her. It fit there though, it normally stayed around her neck like a choker when she was asleep, but it had never gone to rest there during the day. It never reacted to her, just seemed to live on her while not being an alive or real thing. It's red eyes were an unblinking, blood red, and somehow she knew that was what made the snake move, it's magicked eyes. She assumed it was like the suits of armor Walburga said were in Hogwarts, objects fed by the residual magic around them.

 

"Kreacher." She called and the elf cracked into the space in front of her...on her bed.

 

"Yes, Mistress Miranda?" He said.

 

She handed her black shoulder bag to him, "Could you please pack water, a bit of nonperishable foods and a first aid kit? I don't want to be caught off guard."

 

The elf looked at the bag in his hands, "Mistress, Kreacher thinks that perhaps this bag is a little small for such things?"

 

"Oh, it's charmed like Hermione's bag, it will fit what it needs to." Miranda said, hugging the elf, "Leave it by the door will you? I'll be heading out soon."

 

The elf tutted, "Master told Kreacher not to let Mistress leave."

 

Miranda stopped next to the door, determining her options, "He didn't say what I couldn't leave though, did he? So, as long as I stay in the city or the country, it will be okay."

 

Kreacher smiled, "No, Mistress, he didn't." he hopped off the bed, "Kreacher will have Mistress's bag ready in a moment." He hugged her legs, seemingly understanding that she wasn't entirely sure she would be able to return to Grimmauld Place once she left it, "Be safe, Mistress, Kreacher missed you and Mistress Burga."

 

"Go to Hogwarts, if you'd like. I'm sure you can help there, and keep an eye on Harry's friends." The elf looked disgruntled by the thought, "Goodbye, Kreacher, and take care of yourself. I will too." She had intended to act standoffish to him before leaving, to make it easier on the loyal little thing, but looking at his crushed face, she kissed the top of his head, "Bye."

 

The elf nodded and cracked out of the room, a tear in his tennis ball eyes. Miranda wandered into the bathroom. The snakes on the faucets hissed their greeting, but Miranda ignored them, looking at herself in the mirror instead. She had achieved the look she had wanted to, like a little wide eyed girl, with no idea of the horrors of the world. "I'm Olivia." She said to her reflection. She fussed with her wild hair and wondered for the hundredth time how Hermione managed it daily. She thought out her plan again, and was certain that it was the best it could get, especially since the entire thing was based on improve. She could possibly get herself killed, get hexed in to oblivion by Ron, or Harry could just simply send her away once they were finished and go where she couldn’t find them.

 

Miranda grabbed the prepared bag Kreacher had left sitting at the front door, and snatched a few more things from the library before sealing it and placing a mild curse on the hidden door. The last thing she needed now was for the Black family library getting ransacked.

 

Walking the bustling streets of London made Miranda laugh. All of the muggles were just going on with their lives, not realizing how close the end of their world was. She watched Harry, Ron and Hermione walk into the bathrooms. She knew who they were, even that they had no idea who Harry was. Miranda had heard the man's name before, someone stuttering a hello to him. "Uncle Albert!" She yelled, trowing herself onto the side walk.

 

She ran into a witch on purpose. "Watch out dearie." The older woman said, grabbing the girl's arms to steady her. "What's your hurry?"

 

Miranda forced tears into her eyes, "It's my uncle, Miss, he's left me."

 

"Left you, for heavens sake dear, where's he gone off to?" The aged witch was a kindly one Miranda had targeted for weeks.

 

"The Ministry." Miranda whispered, "I was supposed to go in to get an internship with my uncle, but I over slept. He wouldn't wait, I ran all the way here, but I just missed him. My mum, she doesn't want us to stay with him forever, but my brother, Trevor, he's sick, so she can't work. I was supposed to get a job, but I've angered Uncle Albert and..."

 

"Uncle Albert? Are you Albert Runcorn's niece?" The woman asked.

 

"Yes, and he's rather cross these days, mum doesn't want to free load, but we've got no one else to turn to after my Pa died, and I've missed my chance at a...

 

"Hush, hush, dearie. Do you have a Ministry coin?" Miranda shook her head, letting a rather large tear spill down her face. The woman rummaged around in her bag, "Here, borrow mine. I trust you can convince your Uncle Albert to floo me another this evening?"

 

Miranda hugged the woman after slipping the coin from her, "Thank you! I will get your coin back to you, promise!"

 

"Good Luck!" The woman called to her as Miranda made a show of running to the woman's loo stumbling awkwardly in her heels, even though she’d learned the art from Walburga when she was fifteen.

 

Once inside, Miranda straightened her hair and undid the top button on her shirt. "That worked well." She was honestly surprised, seeing as she’d only actually developed her plan in about a week.

 

She held back until she saw Hermione go into a stall and then slipped in front of another woman who wasn't paying attention. "Excuse me!" Using the coin, Miranda flushed herself into the Ministry, a place she’d never even seen before.

 

For a moment she was dazed, feeling like the bumbling little girl she had decided to portray as she looked around at all the sheer magic the place held. Everything was beyond her wildest dreams. How long had she begged and begged her Papa to let her see this place, or even Hogwarts?

 

She caught up with the others as they got to the elevator, "Uncle Albert!”

 

The polyjuiced trio turned to stare at her in horror. Harry took an enraged step towards her, but before he had a chance to yell at her, she started rambling, hoping he would catch on and wait until later to curse at her, "Why did you leave? Mum was so angry, 'Olivia, your Uncle Albert said you were leaving at a quarter to seven, why are you still in bed?' I just grabbed all of my stuff and ran out. I missed you just at the loos. But this old woman let me borrow her coin. Can I still get my tour?”

 

Harry clenched Albert Runcorn’s jaw. “I can’t believe…”

 

"A tour?" Harry froze as a woman in all pink walked towards the lift. "Albert, please, tell me. When did we start offering tours?"

 

Miranda made her eyes widen, "Y-you're Dolores Umbridge, aren't you?"

 

The toad like woman smiled thinly at her, "Yes, I am. And you are?"

 

Miranda held out her hand, "Olivia Runcorn, Albert Runcorn's niece! It's an honor to meet you. I'm a big fan."

 

The Undersecretaries smile grew genuine, she looked at Harry, "Albert, you didn't tell me your lovely niece was a fan of mine."

 

"Oh, yes, Madame Undersecretary, Olivia is a big fan, wants to be just like you." Harry said, his anger at Miranda coming through. He shook her shoulders, "Just like you."

 

Miranda smiled, "This might be too presumptuous, Madame, but might I get a tour from you?"

 

"Oh, yes, I have a meeting, but any interest in a Ministry job should be handled by someone like me."

 

"Please, give us a moment.” Harry pulled Miranda away, his grip vise-like on her wrist, “What are you doing?"

 

"Helping you!"

 

"We had it covered, Miranda. We told you not to come. _I_ told you not to come.” He hissed.

 

"I had to come, Harry, because I'm here to help you, not just sit on the sidelines.” He did not look at all convinced, so she pulled the last card she had, one she hadn’t known she’d even had until the toad woman had shown up, “She has the locket."

 

"What?"

 

"Yes, she has it on, now. I can feel it. You can too. She’ll never let any of you get close enough, you’re her subordinates in her eyes." Miranda said, holding Harry's hand. "Let me get it. You and the others blend in and research stuff. Find out how they found you all at the diner, anything, find what ever you can." She stood on her tiptoes and hugged his neck, "Harry, just don't get caught. Please. I'll meet you all back here in an hour."

 

He wrapped his arms around her, the large limbs feeling foreign. "Be careful." They parted, but Harry kissed her on the forehead first, "Please."

 

Miranda smiled at him, suppressing the blush on her cheeks. "I will." She giggled, "Uncle Albert."

 

Miranda ran back to Umbridge, "He says I can come as long as I'm not a bother."

 

Umbridge tutted, "Nonsense, girl...your name is..."

 

"Olivia." Miranda said eagerly.

 

"Yes, Olivia, follow me. What are your views on muggleborns?" Umbridge asked, leading Miranda onto the lift. "Aren't you coming, Reginald? We're off to see your wife."

 

Ron looked dumbfounded, but Hermione nudged him forward, "Um...yes, yes, I think I'll come down too."

 

Hermione watched them get whisked away with trepidation, "Do you think she knows what she's doing?"

 

Harry nodded, "She's buying us time to go snooping around, find out where You-Know-Who is running this place from."

 

"I hope you're right." Hermione said, adjusting her purse on her shoulder, "We'd best get a move on then, I don't know how long this Polyjuice will last." Harry and Hermione split up, and Ron ran to find them once the business with the Cattermole wife was taken care of.

 

Miranda was taking tea with the toad, "That is such a lovely shade of pink! I love it! Tell me, where-ever did you find these kitten plates? They are adorable." Miranda had found that the quickest way to Umbridge was through complimenting everything about her. It was starting to wear on her though, and she only had ten minutes to get back to the entrance hall, "Oh my! What a lovely locket!" She screeched, suppressing a wince at her own high pitched voice. She also suppressed the desire to see if it was possible to curse herself.

 

Umbridge looked overjoyed that her jewelry was being brought up, "Oh, this old thing? It's an old family heirloom, from the Selwyn's."

 

"Might I see it?" Miranda asked, keeping her voice innocent and very exuberant.

 

The woman's comfort faltered, "Well..."

 

Miranda knew that unless she eased her fears, she would lose the spell she had over the woman, "Oh, please, Madame Umbridge! I just want to get a closer look at that lovely 's'. Might I hold it for just a moment?"

 

The Undersecretary nodded slowly, undoing the locket form her nonexistent neck, "Of course, Olivia. But be careful, it's very old."

 

And then the locket was back in her hand, Miranda felt the reunion much more strongly than she’d expected. After all, to her, the locket had only been gone for a few months. The locket felt completely right in her palm, and Miranda smiled. That smile chilled Umbridge to the bone. For an instant, instead of a young girl, she saw a young woman with death sitting on her shoulder, an evil that did not belong in her perfect pink muggle-less world. "Old indeed." Miranda whispered, "You can trust I will take great care of it."

 

The snake around her neck moved slightly, heat pulsing from both artifacts. Bending over the locket in her lap, as if to get a better look, Miranda pulled out the copy she had made from Kreacher's locket and slid the real one into her pocket in it's place.

 

With a smile and several noises of appreciation, Miranda handed the woman the second fake. "It's lovely, Madame Undersecretary." She looked down at the wrist watch she'd nabbed,  "Oh, I've forgotten to watch the time! I must be meeting my Uncle in the lobby, we're to meet my mother for an early lunch in the city so I can go with her to take my brother to St. Mungo's."

 

"That's quite all right dear, I must be getting on with my very important Ministry duties. Perhaps we can continue this chat another time. I hope your brother is well soon!"

 

Miranda just smiled at her and nodded quickly, leaving the abhorrent office and practically running back to the lifts, but not before grabbing a few copies of the Anti-Muggle wares.

 

"M-Olivia!" Miranda ran straight to Harry, it was obvious that his Polyjuice was nearly done, the angles on his face shrinking and morphing. Ron's hair was turning red again. Harry grabbed her hand and they took off walking just slow enough as to not look like they were running in a panic. Miranda shoved her other hand into her pocket and gripped the locket.

 

That was until someone yelled, "Look! It's Harry Potter!"

 

"Run!" Harry yelled. The four of them burst into full on running strides, Ron's long legs carrying him fastest as he pulled Hermione along with him.

 

The gates on the floo's started closing, the entire Ministry locking down. They made it to one of the gates just before it was about to close, unfortunately, so did Yaxley. In mid Apperation, Hermione cursed the man off, but not before they had gotten through the Grimmauld Place wards with him and back. Miranda felt ill when Hermione suddenly changed their course after the man fell off, rolling into some subway station. When they landed, Miranda only felt Harry's hand slip from her own before the air was knocked out of her lungs again and she saw stars.

 

Everything was silent for a couple of seconds before Hermione started screaming, "Harry! Get the dittany! It's in my bag! Oh, Ron, I'm so sorry, just hang on a little longer, I'll make it stop hurting." Miranda could hear Harry, just a few feet away from her, rummaging through Hermione's beaded bag while Hermione was trying to keep Ron's life from flowing right out of a splinched arm. Her head felt like it was ready to explode so she didn't try to open her eyes.

 

"Harry?" Miranda called, pushing herself up, clutching the chain of the locket in her hand. They were in a forest, she could feel leaves under her hands. She walked slowly to the others, narrowly avoiding running into a sapling.

 

She knelt to where she thought Hermione and Harry were leaning over Ron. Harry put his hand on top of hers, "Are you alright?"

 

Miranda nodded, "My head hurts a lot, but I'll be okay. Is Ron..."

 

"He'll be fine now." Hermione said with determination, and Miranda believed her, the smell of blood and the sound of Ron's agonized screams were muted now.

 

"What do we do?" Harry said, his voice all business, "We can't go back to Grimmauld Place. Do we just wander?"

 

"That's exactly what we're going to do. We need to find the other horcruxes." Miranda said.

 

"Miranda's right, we would have left Grimmauld place after getting the locket anyway. We probably would have based out of it still, but we wouldn't have slept there every night anymore. We need to finish this!" Hermione exclaimed, sitting next to Miranda on the ground.

 

Miranda put an arm around the other girl, "Hermione, don't talk like that. We can do this, we just have to remain strong." Miranda felt Hermione nod in agreement and Harry squeezed her hand, "Alright, do you have any idea what the other horcruxes are?"

 

No one said anything, "You don't know what they are?" She assumed, feeling a little silly sitting there with her eyes closed while they were having such a serious discussion.

 

"No." Harry said. "We know what they could be, but…” His voice trailed off and she heard him move slightly, the too big coat rustling in the leaves and grass, “Miranda, what’s the matter with your eyes?”

 

Miranda smiled, trying to discourage him from getting too worried. She was already lucky enough that no one was yelling at her, she didn’t need Harry to think she had brain damage on top of being a foolhardy idiot. ”Oh, my head hurts a little from the fall, so I was just keeping my eyes closed. I'll be just fine soon, my head's already feeling better."

 

Her world cracked when Hermione said softly, "Miranda, your eyes are open."


	10. Vulnera Sanentur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fresh new flashback for you all featuring Brennan Evans!

_”Well, Miranda, I’ve really muffed it up this time.” Brennan told his young friend, leaning over Olivander’s counter with his head in his hand._

 

_Miranda desperately did not want to talk to him, but somewhere along the way he’d become her friend just as much as Walburga and she was helpless to deny those green eyes he was fixing her with in a piteous attempt for advice. “I told you that you should have told Burga when you first made your decision.”_

 

_He thumped his forehead down on the counter top for a beat, “Damn it, and I told you then that it’s not a massive issue. I can do some good for my people, and I’m a wizard, muggle weapons aren’t going to hurt me.”_

 

_Miranda bit her lip, “She loves you, Brennan.”_

 

_He nodded, “I know that, but she doesn’t need to protect me.”_

 

_Miranda snatched a wand from a young boy who’d grabbed it from behind Ollivander’s back, “Oh, no, that’s not the one for you little sir.”_

 

_Ollivander looked over his shoulder and chuckled, “My dear Mr. Moody, you would have blown half my shop away. My dear Miss Miranda would have quite the fit cleaning that up. She’s about to make a mess of her own.” He guided the child away, “Let us leave these two to talk.”_

 

_Brennan scowled at Ollivander’s retreating form. “Why is it that that old man always seems to know everything about everyone?”_

 

_Miranda watched Ollivander walk as well, wishing he wasn’t always right, “I think he does. How else can you explain him just knowing which wand belongs to which person?”_

 

_He turned his scowl to her, “You’re trying to avoid the issue.” She stared back at him, and he growled, “Damnit, Miranda. I can see on your face that you know what’s really wrong with her.”_

 

_“She doesn’t want to be alone.” Miranda blurted because she was the worst secret keeper ever, which was probably why her Papa never told her anything._

 

_“Alone?” Brennan asked, arching an eyebrow at her, “Blimey, she’s never alone! Half our relationship has been sneaking away from her constant companions just to snog in a closet!”_

 

_“More than that.” Miranda whispered, dipping down below the cabinet to grab the polish for the counter top Brennan had smudged up._

 

_Brennan leaned even further over, his long legs fully stretched out for the first time since he’d slunked into Olivander’s to whine about Walburga’s anger. “You know more than you’re telling me, Miranda. And how do you know… Don’t move.” Brennan said sharply, cutting himself off._

 

_Miranda stilled, her hands up beside her head with her hair halfway in to a knot at the base of her skull where she’d been pulling it to keep it out of her face, “What’s the matter?” She asked, hearing him vault over the counter and land beside her._

 

_His cool fingers touched the skin of the back of her neck, brushing her hair to the side and then pressing on her skin, “Can you feel that?”_

 

_“Yes.” Miranda hissed, wondering what in the world the wizard was up to. Ollivander would be cross to see him behind the counter. “I can feel you poking me, and I don’t like it. Can I get up now please?”_

 

_“No, and I’m sorry, but this is probably going to hurt.” He whispered into her ear before pain exploded in her upper back._

 

_Gripping the counter in front of her Miranda bit back a scream, and she nearly fainted when Brennan hissed, “Vulnera Sanentur.”_

 

_Agony seared across her skin for a few more seconds before vanishing entirely, leaving her feeling much the same as she had before he’d lost his mind.  She spun around to see him holding a piece of wood that most definitely was not a wand, the stake shaped thing was covered in blood and bits of flesh. Her flesh. “What?”_

 

_“I’ll ask you the same thing! How did you not notice you’ve half a bloody tree sticking out of your back?” He cried, voice loud in the short distance between them._

 

_“I have no idea.” Miranda whispered. “I got up this morning and came straight to the shop.” She shrunk down closer to the floor, looking smaller than before, her blue eyes mournful, “I lost time again.”_

 

_He stared at the girl in front of him, “This has happened before?”_

 

_Miranda shook her head. “I’ve never been hurt before.”_

 

_Brennan put a hand on the top of her head and ruffled her hair comfortingly, “Little Duck, someone has been hurting you if you’re losing chunks of time.”_

 

_“Stop, Brennan. I’m forgetful. No one is hurting me now.” She insisted, “I’ve been hurt before, Brennan, I would know if someone was hurting me.”_

 

_He didn’t listen. “Someone could be obliviating you and you would never…”_

 

_“Brennan, please stop.” Miranda begged, her heart hammering in her chest. Her mouth felt dry, and her teeth chattered._

 

_He was just so stubborn. “Miranda, I’ve kept my tongue these last couple of years, but you have curse marks every other week…”_

 

_“Papa and I duel. He never means to hurt me. I should be better at my spells.” She whispered, pinching her eyes closed._

 

_He stood up, “Christ, Miranda! You had half a bloody tree sticking out of your back.”_

 

_“He wouldn’t have hurt me!” Miranda cried, putting her hands over her ears._

 

_“Why else would Walburga forbid me from meeting him?” Brennan asked, “She’d rather take me to meet her bloody bigoted parents than even tell me your father’s name. She protects you and me from everything, but she’s so bloody stubborn. Too stubborn to let me help you.”_

 

_“I don’t need help, Brennan.” She told him softly._

 

_“He is hurting you, Miranda. It has to be him.” He insisted._

 

_Tears filled her eyes, “Please stop.”_

 

_“You’re so damned naive!” Brennan yelled at her, “You’re content just to live in this damn little cage he has you in and remain ignorant of everything!”_

 

_“I Said STOP!” Miranda screamed, and suddenly Brennan was next to the door on the floor, black smoke sweeping away from him as he rolled onto his side._

 

_Miranda stood up and ran around the counter, “Brennan! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to, I just…please don’t say those things about my Papa.”_

 

_He blinked at her a few times, and sighed heavily, “Bollucks, Miranda. Walburga will never leave her ancestral family home, but I need to get both of you away, don’t I?”_

 

_“She’ll leave.” Miranda whispered, helping him up. “She’ll leave with you. All you have to do at this point is ask.”_

 

_He frowned at her, his green eyes confused, “Leave the ‘Most Ancient House of Black’? I think she’d rather die.”_

 

_Somehow they’d found their way back to the original issue. And Miranda was too tired to play games anymore. It wasn’t like it was a secret that could be kept forever, “She’d leave it all for you, for the baby.”_

 

_For the second time in ten minutes Brennan Evans hit the floor of Olivander’s wand shop._

 

_Miranda looked around at the windblown shop, “Oh, what have I done?” She had the shop mostly straightened up when Brennan stirred. “Are you alright?” She asked softly._

 

_Brennan stared at her, “The baby?”_

 

_Miranda nodded, “I caught her vomiting three mornings in the same week, and I’ve never seen her vomit before.”_

 

_“When?” He asked, all thoughts of Miranda’s injury gone from his head._

 

_“Yesterday afternoon. I confronted her and she blabbed. She missed her monthly last month, and she’s been horribly sick since then. Between you heading off to war and being pregnant… Walburga is hysterical. I may have my issues, but you’ve got your share as well.” Miranda told him honestly._

 

_Brennan stared at the girl, “Well, Miranda, I’ve really muffed it up this time.”_

———————

The smile fell from Miranda's face, and her hands flew to her neck. The snake necklace Harry had noticed earlier perched on her collarbone was gone, in it’s place was raw skin. Miranda’s hands trembled over the skin, and her face went pale, ”No, it's gone.”

 

“Your necklace.” Hermione inferred, “Yaxley must have grabbed it mid-apparation and yanked it from your neck as he had fell into the subway!” Miranda didn’t respond, ”Miranda what's going on?" Hermione asked, reaching to pull the other girl’s hands from her neck.

 

She jerked back, “No! Don’t touch me!”

 

"Hermione, what's wrong with her?" Harry asked, his voice tighter than he wanted it to be.

 

Miranda shot to her feet and instantly became unsteady, her hands shooting out to the sides, one smashing into a tree harder than looked comfortable. She was practically panting, muttering to herself under her breath, and stumbled into a tree.

 

"Harry, I think she's blind." Hermione said softly.

 

"Hermione, that's nutters. She was perfectly fine before now." He rebuffed, following Miranda and putting his hand on her back.

 

The wild terror that had been building in her body stilled and seemed to dissipate as soon as he touched her. She took a deep breath and leaned ever so slightly back into him, "She's right, Harry." Miranda said softly once she had regained control of herself. "I am blind. I had a bracelet that allowed me to see. It's gone now though.”

 

"Can't you just make another?" Ron said, his humor seemingly recovering nicely from his splinching.

 

"Ron, magical items of that nature are nearly impossible to create if you have all of the appropriate materials, not to mention immensely expensive to purchase. We're in the middle of a forest, without any materials, and one of us would have to be an immensely powerful and focused. It's just impossible." Hermione was obviously stressing out, and had returned to regurgitating the things she'd read in books and bashing Ron.

 

"My Papa made it." Miranda said, letting Harry help her back to the others, his hand on her arm firm and steadying. "I'll be okay." She said forlornly, "I've been blind since the day I was born. I just need to get used to it again and then I promise I won't slow you down."

 

"What is there to get used to?" Harry asked.

 

She took the locket from around her neck, holding it out in Hermione’s direction, "Take this. I don't want to lose it."

 

"Okay." The other girl said, "How do you get used to being blind though?"

 

"Well, when you're blind, your other senses compensate for it.” Miranda took a deep breath and leaned in to Harry’s side, “I’ve gotten out of practice, but, in a few days, my balance should return and my senses readjust.” The sudden fear of them leaving her caused her next words to come out in a rush, “I can keep up after then, and I can still do magic."

 

"How can you aim?" Ron asked her.

 

Miranda grimaced, “That'll take a bit longer for me to learn. I hadn't learned any offensive magic before I got my sight, I will need to learn. I did learn to apperate blind though, so I'll be pretty good at getting out of the way."

 

"Blind apperation? That should be impossible." Hermione said.

 

"Not impossible, Hermione, just really difficult. I can sort of see magic, I can feel what a room looks like, and then it's easy to move around in. I learned when I was thirteen to apperate without my sight."

 

"Your 'Papa' must have been barmy, teachin' all that stuff to a little girl." Ron said, and Miranda could tell that Hermione was helping him to sit up.

 

"He did it for my protection. I guess it's a good thing he did too. Otherwise I'd be a liability now. We should find some shelter, it's going to rain soon." Miranda chirped, standing up, only wobbling slightly.

 

"How do you know?" Harry asked, standing quickly to steady the re-blinded girl.

 

She touched her nose with a finger, "I can smell it."

 

"Can you tell how far?" Ron asked.

 

"Fifteen minutes." Miranda replied swiftly.

 

"Really? And you keep hold of this." Hermione asked, handing the locket back to her.

 

Miranda chortled, putting the locket back over her head, "No, I can't tell how far off or how much, only that it will. The air smells like lightening. It's very distinct. Like a person. Did you know that every person smells differently. I can tell you three apart..."

 

She continued to ramble on, and Harry looked worriedly at Hermione. "Think she's okay?"

 

"Probably just a bit in shock. We should get out of plain sight though. Harry, why don't you set up the tent. It's in my bag." Hermione said, setting herself to putting up the wards she had researched for this purpose.

 

"What about me?" Ron asked from the ground petulantly.

 

Miranda was quiet now, but not really there with them yet. Harry led her to Ron and pushed her down next to him, "Watch her, won't you."

 

Ron looked at the girl with disdain, "Do I have to?"

 

Harry just glared at him in response and began sifting in Hermione's bag for the tent, setting it up just a few feet from Ron and Miranda. He helped the newly disabled pair into the tent and Hermione entered soon after, lighting the area with little blue lights before tucking Ron into bed tutting like Molly would have.

 

"I'll take first watch." Harry said, exiting the tent.

 

He sat alone for nearly an hour, replaying the events of the day over and over again. It had been so good to see Ron's father that closely again, even if he had looked half afraid as he had spoken to who he had thought was Runcorn. And Miranda, she was so stubborn. She hadn't listened to him, but it had been okay. She had fit her plan more broadly to the inner workings of the Ministry than they had. And now she was blind for it.

 

"Is there room out here for two?" Said her soft voice from the opening of the tent. "I can't sleep."

 

He looked up at her and smiled, but his face fell when he realized that she couldn't see his smile, "Yeah, come sit."

 

She held out a hand as she walked closer and he took it gently when she got close enough, leading her to sit next to him. "Thanks." She whispered.

 

"Not a problem." Harry said, transfiguring the quilt in his lap to be large enough to cover her too. "Why couldn't you sleep?" He asked, noticing as she got closer that her eyes were no longer blue, but the firelight wasn’t strong enough to let him tell what color they were now.

 

MIranda leaned her head against his shoulder, "Just thinking." She laughed softly, "I do that when I can't see. My brother used to say I thought too much. Used to drive him nutters when I went off chattering in the middle of the night. I'm going to just apologize now if I talk your ear off."

 

Harry laughed, "I think I'll be okay." He put his head on top of hers, unknowing that his closeness made her heart skip a beat, "How about you. Are you okay?"

 

She nodded as best as she could, "Yeah, it's just a shock. I've become so dependent on my sight that learning how to manage without it again is hard." Truthfully, the darkness terrified her, it reminded her of how helpless she’d been as a child, and how the panic had overtaken her when Walburga had locked her in that damned room.

 

"You're strong." He said, his voice assuring her, "You'll be fine.” They sat in silence for a few minutes before his curiosity got the best of him, “If you don't mind me asking, how did you become blind?"

 

"If you'd asked when I was younger, I wouldn't have known. I did some research when I woke up, though. Leber's congenital amaurosis, it's a genetic defect, it results in almost complete blindness. My parents were both carriers. I'm just thankful that it doesn't cause any sort of retardation. I really would have been slaughtered in the orphanage worse than I already was.” Her words skirted dangerously close to parts of her past she just couldn’t share, and she struggled to distract him, “Speaking of the orphanage, tell me about the people who raised you." Miranda nestled closer to Harry, closing her eyes.

 

Harry sighed, and instinctively put an arm around her shoulders, "They weren't nice people. My aunt resented my mother for being a witch, so to some degree they tried to beat the magic out of me when they weren’t using me like a house elf."

 

"That's terrible." Miranda said.

 

Harry just laughed, "I didn't even know about magic until my friend Hagrid came to take me to Hogwarts. It was a bit overwhelming at first, but it got me away from the Dursley's, so I didn't care too much."

 

"Tell me about your friends. You know so much about me, and I know so little about you. I want to know who you're fighting for."

 

"Why?" Harry asked, confused.

 

Sitting up a little bit, Miranda kissed his cheek, "Because, Harry, everyone I loved is dead.” She meant it, after the vision of her brother callously murdering that woman and her family, Miranda was done holding out hope that she could save him. It was one thing to hear about such terrible things, and another to actually see it. “I'm fighting for you now. I think it's only fair I know who I'm fighting for."

 

Harry was happy that the blind girl couldn't see the blush that was spreading across his face. "Uh...okay. Well, there's Hagrid to start with, he's the one that brought me into the Wizarding world..." He talked for hours, telling her about his friends, Ron's family, Remus, Tonks, Oliver Wood, he told her what Ron and Hermione were like when they weren't on the run, he even told her about Sirius, and how badly losing him had hurt.

 

When he was done, the moon disappearing behind the trees, he realized how easy it was to tell all of this to Miranda, how easy it was to speak and not feel like he was being judged. To her, he wasn't the Boy-Who-Lived, he was just Harry. Not even Ginny had made him feel this way. Miranda had a smile on her face, regardless of his longwinded stories and the uncomfortable ground they were sitting on, "I think I'm ready to fight then. We've got a lot to lose.”

 

“You’ve already lost.” Harry muttered.

 

Miranda nodded sadly, “I have. Walburga is gone, Brennan is gone, my brother is gone, my Papa is gone, but…Ollivander is out there somewhere and I have the three of you now.”

 

“How did you end up being the apprentice for Ollivander in the first place?” He asked, muttering a spell to keep the fire going.

 

Miranda had to laugh softly, “Curiosity. I talked too much and he thought it was endearing. He also probably thought I could use some sun. Before his shop I stayed in my Papa’s house or Grimmauld Place at all times. Ollivander always insisted we spend time outside drinking tea every day.”

 

“I can’t imagine him focusing long enough to drink tea.” Harry commented, stretching his legs out beside hers.

 

“His late wife, Isla, was definitely a balancing force. He always stayed on topic better when he was talking about her.” Miranda told him. “In some ways theirs was the only truly functional relationship I was ever privy to, and I came along long after she passed.”

 

Harry let his leg rest against hers, and let himself focus on the texture of a curl that brushed against the palm of his hand, “Ron’s parents are pretty perfect.”

 

Miranda laughed softly, “I suppose lacking a proper model makes it easy to notice when people get it right. Easy to envy too.” She took the Horcrux locket back off from around her neck, which was still red from the charm being ripped off, and pressed it into Harry's hand. "Hermione gave it back earlier, but I think you or one of the others should keep hold of it. Seeing as I can't see it anymore, I think we'd be in a right spot if I were to drop it. We can't destroy it if we don't have it. Right?"

 

Harry took it from her, and put it around his own neck, regretting that she’d pulled away. His side felt cold without her pressed against him, “That’s…uh…probably a fair statement. You should go inside, get some rest before the sun comes up."

 

"What about you? You've been up all night." She asked.

 

He shrugged, "It's all the adrenaline. I couldn't sleep right now if I wanted to."

 

Miranda stood with his help, but found her own way to the tent door. She hesitated there, and turned back towards him with a shy smile on her face, ”Oh, Harry. I might not not be able to see now, but I'm glad I was able to see your face before my world went dark again." She left him stunned, outside on his own, to process what had just happened before the others got up.


	11. Alone Together

Miranda hadn’t understood why Hermione had given her the locket back the night before. Hermione had said that it, 'didn't make her feel right’, but Miranda didn't notice any difference. Keeping the locket all the time wasn’t the best plan. She'd had a problem with losing things when she was younger, and Tom had often told her that she'd have lost her head if it wasn't attached.

 

She missed Tom more and more everyday. His name entered her thoughts more than she would have liked, and she had to work hard not to be a hinderance to the other three, especially with Ron seeking to unload her at every turn. She was nearly ready to throttle the red head, but could never get close enough to him to do so. He always managed to see her coming and would scoot out of the way or call for one of the others.

 

Harry had undergone another night terror while he was on his watch that first night, and Hermione had found him and banished him to bed. He had seemed unbalanced by whatever he had seen, and, for the first time since they had been together, Miranda hadn't seen it too. While Hermione was finishing Harry's watch, Ron had interrogated Harry about the vision of the wand maker Gregorovitch and her brother, and Miranda had listened to them in her darkness.

 

Being with the other three the next few days was refreshing though. Miranda had been reduced to a giggling mess when Ron had started screaming during their third evening on the run. "'Mione, she's going to kill me! Keeps staring at me like I'm food!"

 

"Ronald, really. First of all, she can't see you, and second, she's not a cannibal." Hermione had snapped, but Miranda could hear the smile in her voice.

 

"That reminds me." Miranda said, standing on her own more easily than the day before, only wobbling a minuscule bit. "If I'm not to look like an outright weakness, perhaps we should cover my eyes with something."

 

"Like sunglasses?" Hermione asked. Miranda nodded, Hermione laughed, "I think I can manage a pair."

 

"Thank you." Miranda said, and a string of curses came from behind the tent.

 

Harry had been trying to destroy the locket, and was apparently having very little luck. Already standing, Miranda stumbled her way to him...or his rather loud expletives. "Harry." She said softly, "Harry." He just continued, "Harry!" She finally bellowed over his voice.

 

He stopped.

 

"Are you alright?" She asked.

 

He put his hand on her shoulder, letting her know how close she had gotten to him without knowing, "Yeah, just frustrated, I can't even put a dent in it."

 

"That doesn't seem like a reason to scream at it.” Miranda told him, smiling wryly.

 

He shook his head, and Miranda felt the air stir on her face. "I just don't know anything else to try. How are was supposed to destroy it if we can't even scratch it?"

 

Miranda put her hand over his, "You'll figure it out, Harry. I know you will."

 

"You don't have to look at it though. It's like it's mocking me." He growled.

 

Miranda laughed, "It's an inanimate object, I doubt it's mocking you. Come on now, Hermione is almost done fixing supper."

 

"Miranda." He said, stopping her. "Your eyes. I've only just noticed, but they're hazel now. They were blue before."

 

She furrowed her brow, “I was told they changed when my Papa gave me the snake, but I've only ever seen my eyes as blue." She bit her lip, "Obviously."

 

"I like them." He said, brushing her hair out of her face in an intimate gesture that sent a shiver down her spine, "Come on, Hermione probably thinks I've accidentally spelled you into next week trying to destroy this stupid thing."

 

"Ron would like that." Miranda said under her breath, ducking into the tent. She could tell Ron was staring at Hermione again because when he was staring at Hermione he was silent.

 

Miranda sat at the table and chose her next words carefully, "I was thinking."

 

"Here she goes again." Ron grumbled, and Miranda had had enough of his snarky-ness for one night. She hurled a salt shaker in his direction. "Bloody hell." He squawked, but it appeared that he caught it because he unfortunately didn't sound like he was in pain.

 

"May I please speak, Ronald, or must I ask Hermione to transfigure a talking stick for us to pass around at dinner time? I wasn't aware we had brought a first year with us." Miranda said with a sweet smile that earned a chuckle from Harry. The red head mumbled something about her being madder than Hermione, but otherwise remained quiet. "Anyway, I was thinking about what we're going to do about our food supply. We can't very well live off mushrooms for long."

 

"I was thinking about that too." Hermione said, spooning some of her...instant...potatoes onto her plate, an item which the other three were not near brave enough to sample. It didn't matter that the potatoes were the only thing Hermione had packed in her bag and the only other food they had to eat were wild mushrooms. "I think going to any town would be too dangerous..."

 

"That's my point exactly. It would be dangerous for you all, but not for me." Miranda interrupted in her excitement.

 

"Miranda, don't be daft, half the Ministry saw you when you were there." Harry snapped.

 

Miranda shrugged, trying to cover up the sting of his tone, "No, they saw Albert Runcorn's niece Olivia. You all saw me, but everyone else saw her. My own version of Polyjuice potion. My voice was the same, but, to everyone who didn’t know me, my face looked like Olivia’s.”

 

"She's a real person?” Hermione asked, and Miranda thought she heard the girl with a pen scratching on parchment.

 

"I had to make it believable, and, once you all had settled on who you were Polyjuicing yourselves as, I decided to do more research. Olivia Alba Runcorn is a permanent resident at St. Mungo's, she's mad you see. The Ministry will have to assume that you confunded her to add backbone to your own portrayals." She shrugged again, "I might be slightly uncontrolled, but I'm thorough."

 

Hermione huffed, “When did you have time to brew something like Polyjuice on your own?”

 

Miranda grimaced, “The small cauldron in the corner of the potions lab. I wasn't hiding it. It’s just…none of you asked.”

 

She could imagine the confused look on Hermione’s face, “But that actually smelled…palatable?”

 

Miranda laughed shortly, “It tastes like floor varnish, not much better than Polyjuice itself I’m afraid.”

 

“Well even I’ll admit that’s impressive, but to use a mad girl? That's wrong.” Ron growled.

 

Miranda nodded, “I know. I feel rubbish about it, but the mediwizards have hope that within the next few years she will be back to normal. She tried to kill herself and ended up in St. Mungos, no one is going to hold her responsible for anything we did."

 

"Why would she try to kill herself?" Ron asked.

 

"I'm not certain. Probably a boy, she was a pretty girl." Miranda said, "That is all beside the point though. I can go into cities and get us supplies, and someone can use Harry's cloak to guide me around. People would notice floating stuff. It’s better than stealing, right?”

 

Harry said, "No!" As Hermione said, "Brilliant!"

 

Miranda clenched her jaw, "Harry, please, we did nearly the same thing in London not half a week ago!"

 

"You weren't blind then."

 

Harry’s comment hit a nerve, and she slammed her napkin on the table, "Well, Harry, that's not likely to change, is it?" She stood up and walked the the girls' side of the tent, jerking the thin separation screen closed.

 

She sat on the edge of her cot, breathing deeply so as not to lose her temper any further. She could hear the others talking but didn't care enough to try to decipher their muffled words. "When did thing become so hard?" She whispered, remembering the days that all she had to worry about was getting her father to let her go visit Ollivander in his store or to go shopping with Walburga. She had been blissfully naive until her brother had turned so badly evil. The secret was stifling her.

 

Or had things gone wrong before then? In remembering the weeks before her imprisonment, Miranda had recalled a fight with Brennan. The things he’d said. The truth in his words she had refused to acknowledge. She was such an idiot. How could she trust anyone if she couldn’t have even trusted her best friend or Papa? They’d effectively killed her. Miranda Riddle was dead. That was the truth too.

 

Miranda Peverell was still too naive though. Why did Harry loathe letting her get in on the action so badly?

 

In an instant, her anger linked her to what was left of Tom. He was sickeningly gleeful: _”Malfoy, can you tell me how things are going at Hogwarts with your son?"_

 

_The blonde man trembled in fear, "He is at the top of the class, My Lord. He has brought many of his fellow students to your cause."_

 

_Tom hexed the man, "I did not ask for his class rank, you useless fool!" The man she knew as Lucius Malfoy cried out in pain. Miranda reached out her hand, to try to force Tom to lower his wand, to stop hurting the poor man._

 

_"Forgive me!" He cried._

 

_Tom sneered at him, "Lucius, your son is worthless to me at Hogwarts. I have other children there to convert their peers. Draco shows so much promise. I would hate to see his talents go to waste in a place like Hogwarts. They aren't teaching him what I expect my elite Death Eaters to know."_

 

_Lucius nodded, "I will ask Draco tonight."_

 

_Tom used the stinging curse on him, and the Malfoy's fingers were clenched in the rug under him. "I did not ask you to ask your son to join me. I told you to bring him here. You have until tomorrow morning to bring him here, or the lovely Narcissa will have a very bad time of the next few weeks."_

 

_"Yes, My Lord. Yes, please, just spare us." Lucius begged._

 

_Tom...no, it wasn't right to call him that any more, he was Voldemort. There was no denying it for Miranda any more when he slammed the Malfoy's head against the floor with his leather booted foot, "You stupid fool, you would give me your son to save yourself. Pathetic. I should kill you for spinelessness. Bring him to me."_

 

Miranda woke up from Tom's mind to the feeling of Harry's panic from across the tent. Somehow the bond she’d felt with Harry had ripped her away from the bond she had with the remnants of her brother. Miranda was vertical in a second, doing her best not to trip as she made her way to the common area of the tent where the trio were.

 

Harry was shaking, Ron and Hermione standing over him. "I couldn't...make one." He clutched at his side as he tried to catch his breath, "Wouldn't...come."

 

Hermione and Ron both made sounds of dismay.

 

Every angry thought Miranda had for him fled her mind, "Harry!" She exclaimed, lunging to his side, "What happened?" He wouldn't speak, Miranda took his hand, so much larger than her own, "Harry, what happened?" She looked up pleadingly towards the other two, and even though she couldn't see them, she felt like glaring at them would help, "Will someone speak to me?"

 

"He tried to go into town on his own to get food." Hermione said, "There were Dementors." She said, as if it explained anything. It didn’t.

 

Miranda was confused, and she held Harry's hand under her chin, “What’s a Dementor?”

 

Ron scoffed, “How do you not know what a Dementor is?”

 

Miranda shook her head, raising her hand to run her fingers through Harry’s hair. Hermione hissed in frustration, “They’re dark creatures that suck everything good out of their surroundings. You Know Who has been using them as henchmen recently. Harry is usually quite good at conjuring a Patronus to drive them away.”

 

“What happened?” Miranda asked Harry softly.

 

"I don't know." He whispered, pressing his forehead into her shoulder.

 

"And we still don't have any food." Ron grumbled.

 

"Shut up, Ron," Growled Hermione. "Harry, really, what happened? You managed perfectly yesterday!"

 

Miranda heard Ron kick at his chair, "What? I'm starving!"

 

"You go and fight Dementors then." Harry snapped, and Miranda flinched at the anger in his voice. She rubbed circles onto the back of his hand.

 

"I would, but my arm's in a sling, in case you hadn't noticed!"

 

Harry sat up, ”That's convenient."

 

"And what's that supposed to--?"

 

"Stop it!" Miranda yelled, tightening her grip on Harry’s hand, ”Ron, you're not helping."

 

"Harry." Hermione said, and Miranda waited to hear what had the girl so rattled, her own blood rushing through her ears in the seconds that passed before Hermione explained herself, ”The Horcrux, Harry, take it off! Give it to Miranda!"

 

"Wha?" He said.

 

"Come on, Harry, do as she says." Miranda urged, and felt him hesitantly press her locket into her free hand.

 

"Better?" asked Hermione.

 

Miranda felt him nod, "Yeah, loads better!"

 

Miranda quickly realized what was happening, "The Horcrux, Hermione, you don't think...?"

 

"Possibly. Harry, you don't think you've been possessed, do you?" She asked.

 

"No!" He snapped, suddenly squeezing Miranda's hand almost painfully tight. "I remember everything that's happened."

 

"Great, now that we've got that sorted, can we please get some food?" Ron groused.

 

Miranda fought to reign in her temper, to not tear at Ron's throat for being so insensitive. She wouldn't have normally felt such an urge to lash out, but Harry was hurting, scared, and all the daft red head could think of was his bloody stomach. The locket, which was now resting against her chest under her shirt, was thrumming. "We'll go." Hermione said, putting a hand on Miranda's shoulder.

 

"Give me a second." Miranda whispered, "Ronald, we need more wood. 'Mione, I'll meet you outside. Please, I'll be along in just a moment." The other two left, and Miranda knelt at Harry's feet placing her hands on his knees, "Are you feeling better?"

 

She could nearly feel him smile, and he brushed her hair from her face, a gesture he was becoming increasingly fond of. "Yes, I'm not sure what's in that locket, but it's not good." His hand flitted down to the chain now at her throat, his touch nearly burning her skin where he touched her, "I'd rather you not wear it."

 

Miranda shook her head, it seemed she was the only one it didn’t bother, but she couldn’t exactly tell any of them that, "No, Harry, we'll take turns. I'll be fine."

 

"Be careful." He said. "I guess I'll have to let you go. I'm in no real state to try again."

 

Miranda cupped his face between her hands kissing the bridge of his nose, “Have some faith in me. Get some rest. Hermione and I will be back soon.”

 

Miranda and Hermione's trip into town was oddly peaceful, neither sensed any Dementors. Hermione had dragged Miranda to the town bookstore first, where the blind girl had sat in the corner, flipping pages of books she couldn't read so that Hermione could pick the ones she thought they needed. Miranda had felt a little silly, but Hermione had assured her that the books were necessary. Miranda wouldn't have put it past the book worm to have had her purchase books that were totally irrelevant though, she did have that certain thirst for knowledge.

 

After the bookstore, they had gone to the market, Hermione guiding Miranda with a hand on her shoulder, a method that proved very effective at keeping Miranda from being killed by kids on bicycles. Food had been procured quickly, nonperishable goods loading down Miranda's arms while Hermione carried the more ephemeral items under the cloak.

 

Even though it made her dark world obnoxiously shimmery, Miranda was grateful that Hermione was under the Invisibility Cloak, and, as such, couldn’t really talk to her. Something on her face before they had left had told Miranda that the other witch was on the verge of asking her a question she was positive she wouldn’t want to answer.

 

Back in the tent, Harry was sitting at the table and staring at the tent wall. He could barely string two thoughts together. He kept replaying the sight of Miranda's sightless smile, the one she only gave to him. Why was it that the look had made his heart leap into his chest? And she had kissed him! Even if it was just on his nose, that one kiss still made him ache more than any of Ginny's had.

 

He felt enormously guilty when he thought of Ginny, his best mates sister, and, until quite recently, his girlfriend. Miranda was nothing like Ginny. She was just as eye-catching as Ginny for sure, and the same perfect combination of witty and kind. Ginny, even if she never said it, was always worried about being good enough. In spite of his protests, Miranda never tried to prove anything to anyone other than herself.

 

Harry couldn't understand why Miranda had suddenly come to mean so much to him. They had only known each other for a couple of months, but he felt like he'd known her his whole life. She was so easy to talk to, and for some reason he got the feeling that she never judged him. He told her about his insecurities with searching for the Horcruxes, and she had just rattled off a quote before heading to help Hermione with dinner. Maybe it was the way their pasts were so similar? Or the fact that she herself was a horcrux?

 

They’d never said it out loud, but he’d seen the scar on her hand, heard her talk about the mental connection she had to her brother, and seen the way she’d looked at his scar. That moment in the hallway all those months ago had ensured that she was constantly in his thoughts. When ever he would get one of his visions, she just seemed to know, and would come sit behind him and make all of the pain go away, her skin on his, and she hadn’t said a word to the others. They’d kept that up for weeks, and he was certain he wouldn’t have made it a couple of days on his own without more slip ups than the ones they’d had when she’d been angry at him the night before the Ministry and the most recent one.

 

The thought of her being touched by a Dementor made him hate himself for being so weak, for not getting rid of the things when he had the chance to. And both Hermione and Miranda were out there alone. He should have insisted Ron go with them.

 

When Miranda came back though, her hair looked totally different. She'd gone blonde. "Don't look at me like that." She said, and Harry was amazed again at how good she was at knowing what people around her were doing, "Its just a charm." She uncorked a vial and poured a dark potion on her head, her dark hair returning as she combed the potion into her hair with her fingers, "Better, Harry?”

 

He nodded, and remembered she couldn't see him, "Much. It was a bit of a fright to see you with light hair... Not that it didn't look good though!" He said, covering himself.

 

Miranda smiled, "Trust me, I know I look terrible as a blonde. Don't worry about it. You should have been there the time I walked around as a red head for two weeks when I was sixteen. It was down right awful." She smiled at Ron, "Not that red hair is bad, just not for a person who looks like I do." Ron gapped at her slight.

 

"Why red?" Harry asked.

 

Miranda shook her head with a smile, "I did it to punish Walburga once. She was mean to me, and when she came to apologize, I made her angry, I didn't want to listen, and she told me to shut my mouth or she was going to beat me like a 'redheaded stepchild'. I reacted like I always did back then, and sought to push her to the edge of annoyance before I would forgive her. My hair was bright red until she finally screamed at me, two weeks later mind you, and changed it back herself. I got a good laugh out of it. She was so angry.” She held up another vial from her bag, “I played around with the formula after that, and got a blonde that I don’t remember being horrible. Did I stand out?”

 

“You looked great.” Hermione grumbled, but added good naturedly, “You looked great wearing a button down mid calf length dress under a diner apron in the middle of the night, blonde hair just made you look a little pale.” 

 

The ‘totally unfair’ was left unsaid, but it felt good just to be a couple of girls talking about hair and clothes for a moment. Miranda set her bag to rights, “I’m not sure I’ve properly thanked you for finally forcing me to get rid of the shoulder pads. No one else ever bothered to suggest I make a fashion change.” She adjusted the cozy sweater she’d worn into town, “Of all the changes in fifty years, I never imagined that clothes could be so comfortable. I might have changed sooner if I had.”

 

“To have done it all on your own I think you did a pretty great job of blending in.” Harry told her.

 

Miranda shook her head, “It was more than overwhelming. I just muddled along cleaning my same outdated dress hoping no one asked to see papers or wondered why I carried a wooden stick with me all the time.”

 

Ron muttered something unkind, but Miranda was suddenly distracted from the conversation by a searing pain in her palm.

 

“Miranda?” Harry asked, apparently noticing her grimace.

 

She gripped the wrist of her burning hand with her other hand, holding it out, “My hand feels like it’s on fire.”

 

“It’s bleeding.” Hermione gasped, audibly thrusting her hand in her bag.

 

“No it’s not.” Harry whispered, cupping her hand in his, “It’s glowing.”

 

Miranda blinked a few times, “Like your scar.”

 

“Are you having a vision?” Harry asked.

 

She shook her head, “No, it just really hurts, and…I feel really, really lonely all of the sudden.” She bit her lip, trying to sort her own emotions from the pain and the loneliness that didn’t seem to be hers, taking a step away from Harry. “It feels like my brother.”

 

“I though he was dead.” Ron muttered.

 

“I did too.” She said softly, grimacing as the pain left her hand feeling like it was being pierced by needles.

 

She could feel that Harry was angry, just as she was sure the loneliness was from her brother. The real one. Tom. Not the creature who had stolen his name.

 

Harry’s voice was tight when he spoke, ”Are you going to go to him? Your brother, he's hurt. Are you going to leave us and go find him?”

 

"I want to." Miranda said slowly, choosing her words carefully.

 

"Then go, we won't stop you." Harry said, anger filling his voice.

 

Miranda put a hand out and found his, resting clenched on his knee as he sat in the chair next to hers, "No, Harry, please, listen to me. I want to go to him, more than anything I'd like to go find him. You have to understand though, my duty is no longer to my brother." She curled her hand into his, forcing him to relax his grip, "It would be selfish of me to go after my brother when you're trying to save life as we know it. Besides, my brother has survived for fifty four years without me.”

 

Somewhere, Tom was alive.

 

"Really?" Harry said, disbelief evident in his voice.

 

“Yes. Knowing he’s alive, that’s enough for me.” Miranda told them all, shaking her hand out as the pain faded more and more with each breath she took. “I’m exhausted now though. Wake me whenever you lot eat?”

 

“Of course.” Hermione told her.

 

Miranda’s hand was sore and her mind weary, and sleep came easily. She woke up a few hours later to Harry’s hand on the side of her face. “Hey, you alright?”

 

Miranda nodded, sitting up so they were sitting next to one another, his hand falling to rest on her knee. “I’m fine.”

 

Harry put an arm around her, “I’m glad.”

 

She nodded, leaning into him, resting her head on his shoulder, and placing her arms around his waist. "You know something, Harry? I like this.”

 

"What?" He asked, confused.

 

"Us, just sitting here. This means something. Doesn’t it?” She linked her fingers with his.

 

Harry nodded, his cheek rubbing the top of her head, their proximity making him think about Ginny again, feeling guilty again. "Did you play quidditch?”

 

Miranda shook her head, “No. Brennan played though, talked all about it. He loved it, like you do." She smiled, "One day, Harry, when this is all over, will you show me how to play?”

 

Harry nodded, easing his arm farther down her back, "I'd like that.”

 

Miranda hated to say something like what she was about to say without being able to see his face, but it had to be said, she had to tell him how she was feeling. Her free hand wandered up to the side of his face, and she could feel his breath against her face they were so close.

 

"Harry, I'm...drawn to you. I can't explain it, but I'm feeling things for you that I've never felt for anyone ever before, not even Alphard. Being here, you make it easy on me. It’s surreal, and for the world we live in, I think that's something worth articulating.”

 

"You're drawn to me?" He said dazedly, and it made Miranda giggle softly as she imagined the glazed over look he must have been sporting and nodded her reply. She felt him shake his head, "And here I was, going half mad over you, and you...feel the same way I do. There's something wrong with that.”

 

When he kissed her, it was magic. Not in the literal sense, nothing exploded or lit up, but it just felt right. It was easy, comforting, and made warmth fill Miranda, driving out the cold chill of witnessing such a death. There wasn't any rush to their kiss, it wasn't about gratification, it was about being there for each other.

 

But when Harry pulled away, the warmth fled back into the corners of Miranda's mind for a moment, allowing her a clarity she hadn't had in a long time. She was done holding back, letting them all muddle along into things. This had to end. She told him as much, ”This will end, Harry. It has to.”

 

He kissed her again, this time just a peck, for reassurance, "It will.”

 

He stood up, but Miranda clung to his shirt sleeve, "Stay with me tonight?”

 

"Miranda, I don't think that's a good…"

 

"Just stay, on the bed, asleep, with me. I don't want to be alone.” Her confession was a small one, but maybe someday he would understand.

 

“I don't want to either." Harry said, adding, “We can be alone together.” He stood then, taking her hand and pulling her into the common area with the others.

 

After they ate in a quiet fashion neither Ron or Hermione said a thing when Harry followed Miranda back to her cot and laid down beside her. He wrapped his arms around her, and they both fell into dreams of a life without Wizarding Wars. The next morning dawned too early for both of them, but waking up side by side was worth it.


	12. Wool's Orphanage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some (nongraphic) mentions of childhood abuse and rape in this one folks, so if that's something that bothers you, you may want to skip the center chunk of this chapter.

The next few weeks were tough. Ron's temper grew, his frustration amplified by his turns with the locket and nights without full meals. Hermione was growing increasingly anxious about not finding anything in her books, and the tension between the two was nearly unbearable. They'd started fighting with each other more, and both girls found themselves spending most of their time with Harry while Ron fiddled mournfully with his radio.

As to how they came to sharing the same cot every night was a bit of a mystery to Miranda. Harry had started out in his own bed after that first night, but after a few nights, his nightmares drove him to her, her only sign the fact that she was unable to escape his terror clenched arms.

Kissing seemed to help. When she woke up before him, and found herself locked in his grip, it became second nature to sink closer to him and press her lips to his cheek, then his nose, his other cheek, and a kiss to his lips was generally more than enough for his eyes to flutter open and his breathing to slow. Then she'd wrest a hand up to his face and wipe away any moisture that had gathered in the corners of his eyes. More than anything she wished she could see his face again, up close where she'd be better able to take note of the multitude of shades of green that made up his emerald eyes.

Harry always saw the regret on her face, and made it up to her by kissing back like he was starving for her. She couldn't complain one bit about that.

She wanted to complain though, so very badly, when they started talking about visiting Wools Orphanage. She couldn't though. Sure, the trio knew that she'd been adopted, but she had never once mentioned the name of the dreadful building her life had begun in. Telling them that as the reason she didn't want to visit would give too much away. Hermione was perilously close to figuring things out as it was, and Miranda wasn't sure how many more slips or half-truths it would take before the brilliant muggleborn found out at least some of her many lies. They would certainly be enough for their trust in Miranda to be broken completely.

So she kept her mouth shut, even as they apparated directly to the one place that still haunted her own dreams. Instantly Miranda gripped Harry's hand tighter, teetering a bit in her sensible shoes as the air stirred around them. The dead and the demons of Wools Orphanage assailed her, stealing her breath as they greeted one of the few who had escaped. They were too weak to be seen, not like the ghosts that haunted the halls of Hogwarts, but their connections to Miranda ran deep. She'd been born on these grounds after all.

Miranda shut her eyes tight, and instinctively took a step back with a gasp, her hand slipping from Harry's. The spirits vanished. "Miranda?" Heart hammering in her chest Miranda muttered assurances that she was fine, and encouraged Harry to return his attention to his friends.

"An office building." Hermione sighed.

"We uprooted our camp to come look at a bloody office building?" Ron growled.

Harry took Miranda's hand back into his grip, "I told you I didn't really think he would put anything here."

Miranda took a deep breath. It was gone. The place she'd been born. The place she'd been violated. The place she'd said goodbye to her brother for the last time. Absently she wondered if the bodies the matrons had buried had been found. The girl who had died before she'd become the plaything for those evil boys, and the boy who'd killed himself two weeks before her Papa came to get her, came to mind. She was sure there had been others.

That night, the night Tom had found out her secret, the matrons hadn't gotten a chance to hide the body. She was lucky she hadn't died there. They had been eight years old, just children. Tom had noticed she wasn't in their room. He'd never noticed before. She'd been so careful not to let him notice. For years. For years she'd hidden the bruises, the pain. He'd protected her anyway, because he was her big brother. During the day she'd been safe by his side, but during the night…

Miranda remembered laying on the ground, her brown hair spread around her on the dusty surface. Her sightless eyes had been zipping around in her skull as she whimpered around her own stocking.

Sixteen year old Henry Matlock was above her…inside of her… with a few of the other boys his age standing around them. She was kicking at him as hard as she could, but her hands were tied to rings screwed into the floor, and they didn't allow her to get the leverage to free herself. Henry enjoyed hurting her, he always had. He'd been gone for a few weeks, with a family, but they'd sent him back. He'd come right back to her, leaving the same metal coin in her dinner chair to signal that he wanted her to stumble her way into the attic for their entertainment.

Miranda fought him even though she knew she couldn't get free. Even if she did, they would have hurt Tom, and deep down she would take what they gave to keep Tom safe. Nothing she ever did stopped it. While he did what he wanted, the others kicked her, pinched her, and waited patiently for their turn. They only ever left marks where her clothes covered, Henry made sure of that.

Henry had gone still above her, just like he did every time the first round of the ordeal was almost over, her teeth were chattering, and then…

She'd heard Tom say her name.

There were holes in her memory after that, but the shame and agony were there still. Henry had been yanked off of her, and, be it fueled by rage or magic, Henry had ended up out in the hallway and at the top of the stairs. Then he'd been at the bottom, dead. She remembered shaking violently, curling in on herself as she heard the sickening crack the body had made on the bottom step.

Tom had been back at her side in a second, holding her, and, as he pulled the stocking out of her mouth, she realized women were screaming in the hallway. The matrons. They'd come up the stairs and seen Tom holding her. They had taken one look at him with his bloody sister the screaming had ceased. They had whisked her down past the body and through a crowd of other children. The matrons had gotten her out before the bobbies had time to arrive. It wouldn't have done for the police to have discovered that the dead teenager had been raping a little girl under their noses. That would have looked bad for them.

After the police had cleared Tom, ruling it quickly as an accident, he had been brought back to her, but not before she'd heard her doctor talking to the head matron about just how severe her trauma was.

The head matron had almost been pleased with what the doctor had told her about Miranda's future. They had been unnatural. It hadn't been their fault though. Miranda had confessed to Tom that night that the abuse hadn't just happened once. She had allowed them to hurt her because they had threatened to hurt him. Miranda had lived the next year there in terror, and looking back on it she supposed that had been the first dark mark on Tom's soul. He'd been darker that year, angrier.

It was Ron, in the end, who made note of how quiet Miranda had been during their outing. "Guess you're not having fun anymore."

Miranda frowned at the tone of his voice. It was impossible to tell without seeing his face if he was being friendly or being snide. "I never expected to have fun." She responded, sighing heavily, "I'm just tired I guess."

He went quiet, but she could tell he hadn't moved away. Several moments later he said, "I'm not sure that's really the truth, but I suppose it doesn't matter. For some reason Harry likes you."

She laughed softly, "I wish we'd found something today."

"Me too." Ron whispered, tapping his shoe against the ground before he went into the boy's side of the tent.

In the weeks after they'd visited the orphanage the inexplicable bond between Miranda and Harry grew even stronger. Even still Miranda had seemed to numb Harry's night terrors. Harry's terrors had stayed his own. At least until one night in early Autumn when his terrors became their terrors:

_"They tried to steal the sword? From your office?" Voldemort laughed, "Severus, I thought they were more afraid of you than that! I trust they were punished?"_

_"Quite severely, my Lord." Said a black haired man that Miranda had never seen in one of her visions before._

_"Good, that's very good." He said, moving across the room, "Severus, I want you to begin teaching Mr. Malfoy."_

_"I was under the impression that I was teaching him already, my lord." Severus said._

_"You were. Now you aren't. Draco Malfoy is no longer enrolled at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, he's living here, and you will teach him here. You will teach him the things that you aren't yet allowed to teach." Voldemort said with flair._

_The other wizard was the one her heart was with though, the look that had flashed behind his dark eyes told her more than his words did. "Yes, my Lord. We shall begin right away." He started to leave, the anxiety in his eyes seemingly only perceptible to Miranda._

_"Wait." Voldemort said, a slow smile growing on his face._

_"Yes, my Lord?" She saw the fear in his eyes, and so did Voldemort._

_Voldemort was grinning now, and it made Miranda's blood freeze, "Severus, did you really think I would let you get off with nearly allowing children to steal such a valuable object?"_

_"No, my Lord." Severus said, and his breathing hitched._

Harry woke shaking to Miranda's screams. She was kicking at him, her arms trying to pull herself away from him, but her eyes were closed. "Miranda, Miranda, wake up!" Harry yelled, and he managed to pin her down with his body.

"Harry, what in the bloody hell is going on?" Ron said, pulling on his shirt as he vaulted out of his cot.

Harry was frantic, trying to get her to stop. "She's having a nightmare!" He said, not admitting that it was a nightmare that was a direct result of his connection with Voldemort. "Miranda! Randa!"

She jerked awake, folding her arms around Harry, gasping.

"Are you okay?" Hermione asked, taking Ron's hand subconsciously.

Harry sat back on his feet, pulling Miranda up against his body. She seemed so fragile for an instant, clinging to him, her head on his shoulder, her clammy forehead against his neck, her quick pants of breath upon his skin, gooseflesh spreading up to the side of his face. "Miranda." Harry said softly, unused to the blind girl being so frail.

"He's evil. He is so evil." She said, pushing herself closer to Harry. "He's evil.." She whispered softly, trying to rein in her rapid breathing.

Harry put a hand on her head, in what he hoped was a comforting manner. "I know." He smiled at Ron and Hermione, "She'll be okay. I just...we just…"

Hermione dropped Ron's hand, and put a hand on either hip. "Harry, again? I thought you were really trying to block him out!"

Harry rolled his eyes at her and she huffed in indignation, "'Mione, don't start this again, please. You need to know what we saw!"

She nodded, but looked unconvinced, "Oh, alright, Go ahead."

"Ginny, and the others, they tried to steal the sword of Gryffindor. You-Know-Who was really angry with Pro...with Snape, for some reason. I mean, what reason would he have to be so angry about an attempted theft of a Gryffindor artifact? It just doesn't make sense." Harry rambled.

Hermione looked thoughtful, "What…what if they swapped the real sword for a fake one?" Miranda pulled away from Harry and put herself in the spot next to him, but still kept their thighs touching.

"Hermione, are you barmy? Why would they swap them?" Ron said, looking at the muggleborn like she had grown two heads.

She lunged for her beaded bag, sinking her arm into it's depths. "If anything happened in Dumbledore's office, Phineas Nigellus would have seen it. He hangs right by the swords case!"

"Phineas Nigellus?" Miranda asked, her interest piqued.

"Yes, he was a…"

"I know, I know he was a Hogwarts Headmaster. He used to take Walburga and I ice skating when he had the time. He died before Walburga's sixth year." She smiled at Hermione. "I'm afraid you don't know what you're getting yourself into. He's got a rather nasty temper and doesn't like petulance. He was actually more surly than my father. Let me talk to him first, or he won't help at all."

"I thought he died in nineteen twenty six?" Hermione said, even though both the boys looked clueless.

Miranda shrugged with a smile, "Legally, he did. He got a little addled in his old age, and basically never left Grimmauld Place once he faked his death the year before I was born. He stayed in the room next to Walburga's brother, Cygnus. He was the grandfather I never got to have. He was sort of a joy, Walburga would ask his portrait for advice all the time after he was really gone."

Ron was looking at her like she was crazy, just as he had looked at Hermione, "You had some sort of messed up childhood."

"Yes, I did." She replied, a sardonic smile on her face.

"Should we...cover him or something?" Harry said.

Miranda shook her head, "No, he liked me well enough to keep mum about seeing us." She looked at Hermione, "Just don't mention you're a muggleborn. And Harry, probably best to keep out of sight, just in case I'm wrong." She smiled at Ron, "Try not to be a git, whatever you do or say, he'll one up you and it won't be pretty."

"Does he hate Weasley's or something?" Ron asked.

Miranda shrugged, interrupted by Hermione pulling an ornate frame from her bag. "Hush you two, here he is."

Hermione and Miranda knelt down in front of the empty canvas. Miranda tapped on the edge of the frame, "Uncle Phineas? Are you there? Uncle Phineas, please, it's Miranda. I have to ask you some questions."

"Girl, I'm here, why're you talking like I'm not?" Said a gruff, but familiar voice.

Miranda smiled, and Harry noticed the relief evident on her face, "Uncle Phineas, forgive me, I'm just a little sight impaired at the moment. How have you been?"

"A little jostled. What in the world is going on, last time we spoke, you were young, and here we are again, fifty years plus later and you are still young. How did you manage that?" The portrait man said.

Miranda winced, "Walburga." Was all she said, and he nodded.

"She always did have a dangerous interest in magic. Although I would guess your father had something to do with it. My granddaughter would never have done anything to you of her own volition." The cold sounding man said.

Miranda froze, it had never really sunk in that her father had forced Walburga to lock her in that room, and the stab of pain at being reminded of that fact hurt. Hermione took over, "Professor Black, might I ask you about the Sword of Gryffindor?"

"Ah," he said, looking at Hermione, "yes. Silly girl acted in an unwise manner there-"

"Shut up about my sister!" Ron said roughly.

"Who else is here?" Phineas asked, and Miranda held up a hand.

"Uncle, please, don't worry about it. They're my friends. We just need to know what you know about the sword." Miranda urged, shooting a dark look in Ron's direction.

"Don't give him that look. I swear, you and Burga, cut from the same cloth. Could've made a Black of you." He smiled fondly at the blind girl, and Hermione filed the expression away in all the things she'd learned about Miranda in the last months. "You're asking about the sword? Snape sent the thieving little imps for punishment in the Forbidden Forest with…with..."

"Hagrid?" Hermione prompted after he seemed to struggle for a name.

He nodded, "Yeah, Hagrid. Not sure why they tried to steal the sword though, it's fake."

"I knew it!" Hermione squealed, and Phineas covered his ears with his hands.

"Quiet girl! Miranda, why are your friends so loud?" He said.

Miranda smiled, "I'm sorry, Uncle, Hermione is just…"

He shook his head, "Yes, yes, I know her type. As I was saying, the last time I saw, the real sword was when Dumbledore used it to break open a ring..." He looked to the side of his frame, "Forgive me, Miranda, but there's a commotion in my other frame. I must go. I'll be around if you need me again."

Harry nudged Miranda, "Snape." He whispered to her.

"Oh, Uncle?" Miranda said, catching the Ex-Headmaster before he had completely left his canvas, "You won't tell Snape you saw us, will you? That could complicate things."

The portrait smiled fondly at her, and Hermione took note again, "Don't worry, I'm not fond of a Headmaster who plays by another's rules. I might not have been liked, but I did what I wanted. Just promise that we can have a real talk one day, just you and I." He said, before he disappeared from his canvas.

Harry and Hermione were alight with theories. "The sword can destroy Horcruxes! Goblin-made blades imbibe only that which strengthen them-" Hermione said like she were reading it out of a textbook. "Harry, that sword's impregnated with basilisk venom!"

"And Dumbledore didn't give it to me because he still needed it, he wanted to use it on the locket-"

"-and he must have realized they wouldn't let you have it if he put it in his will-"

"-so he made a copy-"

"-and put a fake in the glass case-"

As amused as Miranda was by their enthused banter, she had noticed a bit of a problem, "Harry, where do you think he would have left the real one?"

Hermione and Harry looked back and forth from the blind witch to each other. Harry started pacing, his footsteps falling heavily on the hard ground, and Miranda could only imagine the perturbed look on Hermione's face. "Harry, we have to think! Where would he have left it?"

"Not at Hogwarts." Harry said definitively, "He would have known we wouldn't be able to get it if he left it there."

"Hogsmead?" Miranda offered, recalling the little town she'd spent much time on weekends in, chaperoning Walburga while she cavorted with Brennan.

"No, too close to the school." Harry shot down.

"Not the Shrieking Shack either. Snape knows how to get in there. Even though Dumbledore trusted him, I'm sure he didn't tell him he even swapped the swords." Hermione prattled off.

"So, it would have been someplace well away from Hogsmead." Harry surmised, "What do you think, Ron? Ron?"

Miranda knew that the red head had returned to his bunk, and braced herself...he was wearing the locket. "Oh, remembered me, have you?" He said.

"What?" Harry said, taken aback.

Ron snorted, "You guys carry on, don't let me spoil your fun."

Harry looked to the girls for help, Hermione shrugging and Miranda oblivious. "What's the problem?"

"Problem? There's no problem. Not according to you anyway." The rain, which Miranda had felt in her bones all day, started falling.

"Well, you've obviously got a problem. Let's hear it!" Harry said, and Miranda caught his arm before he could approach his friend.

She heard Ron stand. "All right, you know what, I'm not as happy as the rest of you seem to be just because there's another damn thing we've got to find. Let's just add it to the list of stuff you don't know."

"I don't know?" Harry echoed, "I don't know?"

Miranda shivered, and sensed as the dread filled Harry.

Ron just plowed right on, "It's not like I'm not having the time of my life here, you know, with my arm mangled and nothing to eat and freezing my backside off every night. I just hoped, you know, after we'd been running round a few weeks, we'd have achieved something."

"Ron." Hermione said, her voice heartbreakingly soft.

"Ron." Miranda said, louder, as to compete with the noise of the rain, her tone warning.

"No, Miranda, he's entitled to his opinion." Harry said, his voice harsher than he had intended. "Ron, I thought you knew what you'd signed up for."

"I thought I did too." Ron growled.

 


	13. Memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The conclusion of their fight, and a bit more perspective.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a bit longer, and mostly unedited as it's 85% new. So please forgive any errors! Many of the lines in this first scene are from the books, so I do not own them!

"So what part of this isn't living up to your expectations?" Harry spit out, and Miranda knew his anger was protecting him now, insulating him, "Did you think we'd be staying in five-star hotels? Finding a Horcrux every other day? Did you think you'd be back to Mummy by Christmas?"

Ron's face turned red, "We thought you knew what you were doing! We thought you had a plan!"

"Ron!" Hermione pleaded, but he still ignored her.

"Well, sorry to let you down." Harry said, his voice deceptively calm. "I told you everything from the start, everything Dumbledore told me. We've found one Horcrux-"

"Yeah, and we're about as near getting rid of it as we are to finding the rest of them! Nowhere effing near!"

Hermione had stood, taking a step towards Ron, "Take off the locket, Ron. Please, take it off. You wouldn't be saying this stuff if you hadn't been wearing it all day. Please, just give it to Miranda."

Miranda stood, holding out a hand in the direction of Ron's tense breathing. "Ron, please, give me the locket."

"No." Harry said, yanking her hand down to her side, gripping her arm in his strong hand hard enough to make her wince. "D'you think I haven't noticed the two of you whispering behind my back? I can never get Miranda to tell me what you're saying. I know she can hear you though. D'you think I didn't guess you were thinking this stuff?"

"Harry, we weren't-"

"Don't lie!" Ron roared.

"I'm not!" Hermione screeched.

Miranda pried Harry's fingers loose, yanking her arm from his grasp, "Harry, this has to stop."

"No, this needs to happen!" Ron yelled, throwing the locket at Miranda, who, without her connection to it, couldn't have caught it before it his her face. "Do you even care about my sister? No, you don't, you don't care that she could have been killed for the sword!"

"I didn't ask her to do that..." Harry mumbled.

"It doesn't matter, does it? You've got Little Miss Blind girl to replace Ginny, so what do you care? What good is my little sister to you up against Miranda? And who cares what happens to my parents! You're parents are out of the way."

"My parents are  _dead_!" Harry yelled, moving around Miranda.

"And mine could be going the same way!" Ron spit back.

Miranda felt the instant the situation bubbled dangerously, "Then GO!" Harry screamed as Ron, "Go back to them! Run home to Mummy-" Both boys raised their wands.

Hermione screamed through her tears, "Stop!"

Miranda threw herself at Harry, pushing him back a step. "Harry, you don't want to do this. He is your friend!" She pleaded.

"Leave the Horcrux." Harry said coldly, wrapping his arms around Miranda in a way she had never been held before. The possessive hostility was palpable in the room.

Ron threw his bag over his shoulder, looking at a shaking Hermione, "Are you coming? Or are you staying?"

Miranda didn't know how Hermione could have made such a decision, she couldn't have, but she did. "I-I-yes, I'm staying. Ron, we said we'd come, we said we'd help-"

"I get it. You choose him. I hope you three are happy together." Ron said, leaving as if he didn't care at all, the venom and fire shoved solely into his blue eyes.

"Ron, no-please-come back!" Hermione yelled as he walked out into the rain.

Miranda broke away from Harry and grabbed Hermione before she could run after him, "'Mione, don't. Once he disapperates, you won't be able to find him. He's not coming back tonight. There's nothing you can do tonight. Please, for now, you need rest. Sit."

"He left!" Hermione cried like she couldn't believe it.

Miranda forced the other girl to her cot, "Hermione, you need to calm down." Miranda begged, wrapping her arms around the other girl and rocking with her as her father had done when she had been upset.

The muggleborn witch was sobbing hysterically, and kept doing so until Miranda poured a vial of Sleeping Draft down her throat. "Ron, Ron, Ron." Hermione chanted over and over again until she finally drifted off to sleep in Miranda's arms.

Miranda tucked the other girl in and went to Harry, drawing the curtain to the girls' side of the tent, closing it and lining it with sound proofing charms. "Harry." She called softly, only needing to hear him once to know where he was.

"I'm here." She heard him say, and she was relieved the anger was gone from his voice.

"Are you alright?" She asked softly, holding a hand out to feel for him.

"I've been better." He took her hand, pulling her to sit next to him. "Why would he leave? I just don't...Did I do something? I can't know everything, can I? I never claimed I did. I got angry and I couldn't stop, but…did I lead him on?"

"Harry, no. You can't do this. It's not healthy. You've done nothing wrong." Miranda implored, cupping her hand against the side of his face. "He just needs time to cool off. He'll come back, when ever he's ready."

"How can you be so sure?" He asked, putting one of his hands over hers.

Miranda chuckled, "Harry, Ron is a lot like Alphard was. Headstrong, impulsive, but loyal until the end. I know the type, he'll be back. I promise. You three are kind of a package deal."

He kissed the palm of her hand before lowering it in his to his lap, "I wish I could believe that, but I just don't think I can."

She smiled at him, "Believe in me. Can you do that? Because Hermione is going to need you to be able to keep it together."

"Okay," Harry said, "Speaking of Hermione, how is she?"

Miranda glanced over her shoulder in the direction of the other girl, "I gave her a sleeping brew. She'll be out for a while. Wasn't going to get any rest otherwise."

"Thank you for helping her." He said softly, ashamed it hadn't been him.

"Harry, me helping your friends helps you. That's why I'm going to try to find Ron in the morning. Knowing him, he's probably splinched himself, the idiot." Miranda said lowly, but she genuinely hoped the red head was alright. Sometime in the last months a small shell of affection had started in her for him. He was Harry's friend for a reason, and she and Ron had started blunting their barbs at one another most of the time.

"You're going to leave?" Harry hissed, standing up.

Miranda grabbed his other hand, pulling him back down, and closer. "Oh, hush. It'll just be for a week. I need to make sure that he knows that you two need him, that you want him to come back. He won't believe it from either of you, but he'll believe it from me."

"Why would he believe you and not Hermione or I?" Harry asked, confused by the witch again.

Miranda chortled, "Ron will believe me because while he doesn't hate me anymore, he doesn't trust me, and he knows that I wouldn't do anything for his benefit."

Harry shook his head, an incredulous smile on his face, "So you're going on the hope that the fact that you two want to half kill each other is going to make Ron listen to you."

"Exactly."

Harry kissed her, "You are brilliant."

Miranda smirked, "No, that's Hermione, I'm just intuitive. When you're blind, you can't see people's faces to know what they really think. I have to listen to the meaning behind the words."

"And what do you think I mean when I tell you how beautiful you are?" Harry said, needing to get his mind off of Ron.

Miranda smiled, but it wasn't the smile he had been hoping for. She looked almost sad. "Harry, before you say anything else, I have to tell you something."

He nodded, "Okay."

"Back then, when I was friends with Walburga and everyone. I thought I knew what love was. I thought I loved Alphard. I knew I loved my brother, and I thought I loved my father." She swallowed tensely, but smiled at Harry again, light in her eyes. "I never truly understood how Walburga could be so ready to give up everything for Brennan, but I know now. I know why she would have left all of the money and fame of being a Black for him now."

"Miranda..."

She clapped a hand over his mouth. "Hush, let me finish." She put her hand back down, shifting nervously. "The things I feel for you, Harry...they make every feeling I've ever felt for anyone else pale in comparison. I guess what I'm trying to say, is that...I love you. More than anything, more than anyone. Even when you're being pigheaded."

She couldn't hear him anymore. Miranda's heart must have stopped, he was holding his breath. To her, time stood still as she waited for his reaction to her declaration. She wanted him to say something. Anything would have been better than the silence.

Miranda nearly cried in relief when he finally moved, and kissed her softly, "I love you too." She flung her arms around Harry's shoulders and clung to him. When she started crying, Harry just rubbed her back and kissed the top of her head, "Don't cry, please, Randa. What's wrong?"

She laughed, pulling away from Harry so she could wipe her face, "Nothing. They're happy tears, I promise. I was so worried that you didn't...that you wouldn't..."

He laughed, kissing her again, "Miranda, why do you think I wouldn't. In all of this whole crazy mess, you've made me feel like I can do this. Like I can kill the Dark Lord."

Miranda smiled blearily at him, telling him what he wanted to hear, what she wanted to be true, "You can, Harry. You can do it." She kissed him, "You just can't get there alone."

"That's why I have you..." He said, punctuating each word with a kiss, "And 'Mione...and Ron."

"Exactly." Miranda chirped, "I'll cool him off in the morning. He'll see that everyday, we get a step closer to finding all of the Horcruxes. We know how to destroy them now. All that's left is to find them."

Harry shook his head with a smile, "You sound so sure."

Miranda shrugged, "I'm not sure, I'm just hopefully optimistic." She ran her fingers through his hair, and shifted to rest her head on his shoulder. "I have a past, Harry." She whispered, "It's not a happy one, and you've shared so much of yours. I want to tell you. I just don't think I'm ready yet. Will you be patient with me?"

Harry seemed startled by how scared and young she sounded, but kissed the top of her head, "We all have secrets, right?" She nodded against his shoulder, and he kissed her one more time before pulling her up and taking her to what had become not just a cot, but their bed. Miranda gripped his shirt tightly when they lay together, and he frowned at her, "You okay?"

She sighed heavily, "Long day."

He knew her better than that though, and pulled her closer, "Hey, I promise. You want me to be patient, I will be."

They stayed curled up together until Harry drifted off to sleep. Miranda was aghast at herself. Yes, she loved Harry, that hadn't been a lie, but why had she said the rest? She'd been so close to giving up all her secrets, but she couldn't. She couldn't give up on Tom, not yet, not when he'd done so much for her. It was then, staring sightlessly into the the air above her, that Miranda suddenly realized that loving them both was going to get her killed.

—

The next morning came too quickly for Harry's liking, "I almost wish you would stay and let the git sort everything out on his own."

Miranda rolled her eyes at him, "That might have worked if it was just you and Hermione, but I'm an extra thorn. You did date his sister. Don't call him a git, we should have had him wear the locket less." She said drolly.

Harry winced, "I hadn't really thought about that." Guilt crumpled his face and it killed Miranda to know she was part of the cause.

Hermione looked at him like he was an idiot. She was better when she woke up, but Harry would still have to deal with her short temper alone while Miranda was gone, "Harry, how could you not? Ginny's his sister!" The book worm exclaimed.

Miranda hugged her friend, "Don't be too hard on him while I'm away. He means well. I'll be back here in a week. With or without Ron."

Hermione looked like she was going to cry again, and Harry grimaced, "Hermione, he'll be okay."

Miranda nodded in agreement, "'Mione, I might not be able to bring him home with me, but he will come home when he's ready."

"Home?" Hermione said, looking around at the tent. "Miranda, this isn't a home."

"Yes, it is Hermione. Home is where the heart is, and trust me, Ron's heart is here." Miranda said brightly, looking towards Harry, "As is mine."

"You'll be safe, right?" Harry said sternly, walking out of the tent with Miranda, an arm slung over her shoulder.

She laughed, "Yes, I will. Just as long as you come back right here in a week. Until then, keep moving camp. A week from today at noon, we will meet here, and then you can take me, and possibly Ron, to wherever you two are camped."

He stopped her, looking confused. "I just realized, how will you be able to find Ron?"

"Well, everyone has a magical signature. My Papa taught me to be able to latch on to one left after dissaparation even if I can't see. The signature lingers for a while after. Once you have a clear idea of who you're looking for, you can go to where they went." Miranda explained.

Harry shook his head, "One of these days, you're going to have to teach me all of these little tricks and stuff."

Miranda kissed him on the lips, and he melted around her, his taller frame fitting snugly against her. "It's a deal then. You teach me how to play Quidditch, and I'll teach you all the magic I know they don't teach at Hogwarts." He often seemed to forget that she had spent a great amount of her magical learning years in the company of more than one Black. Walburga in particular, had specialized in the sort of things they didn't teach at any school.

If she was ever going to be able to tell him the truth, she needed to make him remember that there was more to her than met the eye. She couldn't be seen as the perfect girl anymore. Because when people saw her like that she couldn't help but try to meet their expectations. She couldn't afford to do that anymore, no matter how easy it was.

"I'd like that." He said with a smile in his voice, kissing her again, unaware of her inner turmoil. He held her for a few minutes longer, unwilling to let her go, "Do you really have to go?"

"Harry!" Miranda groused, tugging away from him, "I need to find where Ron apparated to."

"I guess that means I have to let you go." Harry grumbled, and Miranda saw a shadow of the man he would be one day. That man, was someone she wanted to know more than anything.

"Yes, it does." She said softly.

"Okay." He whispered, cupping the side of her face in his hand, "Just be safe and come back to me. And don't tell anyone about the Horcruxes.  _He_  can't know that we know."

She kissed him, and this time it was hard and deep, "I will." She whispered to him, catching her breath. "In a week. Not a day later, with or without him. I love you, Harry James Potter."

He smiled, "I love you too, Miranda Peverell."

Miranda kissed his cheek, "I really must go, Harry. I'll see you in a week."

"Goodbye, Miranda." Harry said, his heart heavy.

She waved back at him, moving out of the shade of the trees and into the bright sunlight that seemed to bounce off her dark hair. She stepped outside of the wards and Harry headed back inside the tent to collect what was remaining of his best friend in an effort to take her mind off of Ron.

Of course she'd lied to him again, and Hermione hadn't been there to point out her fallacy. There was no way to track apparation. Sure she could see the tear of magic in the black space where Ron had vanished, but that was it. A similar tear would be in the place he'd ended up, but it was impossible to follow between the two, even as skilled as she was. She just had to pull on what she knew about Ron and guess. At the very least she had been told enough over the last few months to know a few places Ron might be, and enough of an idea of what they looked like from the few photos she'd seen before they'd left Grimmauld Place.

She had somewhere else she wanted to be though. Somewhere she needed to be. She'd been thinking about it for weeks now, and there was only one person she could trust to help her: Ollivander.

_"_ _Miranda, dear girl, remember if there's doubt, you can always count on me. I will always remind you of who you are. You can always find yourself here."_

She hadn't understood his words then. They'd just been another in a long string of strange things the eccentric man had said to her. They'd been his last words to her, and now he was missing.

Miranda found herself standing in the middle of his shop in a second, her ears ringing but mind clear. She'd known Ollivander so well, had spent some of the best times of her life in his shop. A few days after Brennan had pulled the wood out of her back Ollivander had been a bit stranger than usual. He must have seen some of the exchange. He had just taken a wand box off the shelf and held it out to her, but when she reached to take it from him when he put it back on the shelf, shaking his head, "Not yet, dear girl. Someday, but not yet."

She took a deep breath, and a step towards the counter. A wand rolled across the floor, and she remembered what Harry had mentioned about Ollivander's shop being ransacked. "Bugger."

It just wouldn't stand for the shop to be out of order when Ollivander came back. He was quite specific with where each wand went after all. Some of them were ill suited to be neighbors. She'd learned that the hard way her first week with him.

Two days. It took two days of searching and organizing before she finally found the box. And she only knew it because the damned thing bit her hand when she picked it up. She dipped a finger inside, and felt a cool liquid.

Miranda went scrambling across the shop. Around noontime the first day she'd found Ollivander's pensieve, and she needed it now. He had to have left her memories, and it was time she found out why. Hands shaking she tipped the liquid into the bowl, and took one deep breath before shoving her face into it and letting light flood back into her sight:

_The first memory began with Ollivander alone in his shop, but he was quickly joined by her Papa. But he didn't look like her Papa, not really. His hair was far paler than the golden curls she'd grown used to, and it was shorn close, stuck up. His hair wasn't the most startling change. His eyes were ice cold in both color and feeling, one brown and one blue. "Hello, Mr. Ollivander."_

_Ollivander jumped, a hand on his chest, "You-you're him! Grindelwald!"_

_Her Papa nodded magnanimously, "Yes, I am, and you are the great wandmaker Garrick Ollivander. You met my daughter this week."_

_Ollivander scoffed, though his hands shook as he tucked a newly made wand into it's box, "That sweet girl is no more your daughter than I am. I know exactly who she is."_

_Her Papa shrugged, "Well, she is adopted. If you know who she is, then you know that too. She likes you, or I would have killed you for knowing. As is stands, your continued survival hinges on her liking you and you keeping your mouth shut. No one is to know who she is. It's simple. I'll let her come here and learn from one of the greatest wandmakers that ever lived. You keep her occupied, happy, and you live. It's a win-win for me, so to speak. And one for you too. She is a delightful child. Beautiful and smart."_

_"_ _I'm to assume she knows nothing about what you do?" Ollivander hissed._

_Ice blue eyes dragged their way from the counter to Ollivander's face, a smug smirk on his own, "Of course not. She's a good girl. And I am her beloved Papa. I intend for it to stay that way. You talk, you die."_

_"_ _Why send her here?" Ollivander asked. The man with her Papa's face stared for several minutes, and Ollivander got anxious, "From the moment that wand was made, I knew a special witch would wield it, and after her brother came to see me, I knew she would come. I also knew she wouldn't really need it. Her magic is it's own entity, split from her and using her body as a living host. It doesn't need the help of a wand to come out. She shouldn't be alive at this age, it's a miracle."_

_The smirk turned dark, "_ 'She is a mortal danger to all men. She is beautiful without knowing it, and possesses charms that she's not even aware of.'  _Edmond Rostand wrote that, and I think it fits my Miranda quite well. Wouldn't you say so?"_

_Ollivander spluttered, "Did you do this to her?"_

_A hint of her Papa came back to the man's face, "No. It happened before I rescued her."_

_Ollivander laughed shortly, "Rescued? You?"_

_The hint vanished, "Yes, I rescued her. And I rescued everyone near her. She was on the cusp in that dreadful place, but now, you've seen her, she is a glorious creature. And you're going to help her stay that way. She's a delicate child. Should she have an…episode…while in your care, and you live through it, summon me."_

_She watched them make and Unbreakable Vow, and a second memory followed after._

_She saw herself, sitting on the floor of the typically disheveled shop. Drops of blood stained the back of her blouse. It had to have been the day with Brennan. The day she had somehow thrown him across the room and ruffled the shop. But she had no memory of this at all._

_Ollivander knelt next to her side, "Dear girl, are you alright?"_

_Tears stained her face, "Something happened earlier."_

_He sighed heavily, and wiped a tear from her face, "Are you injured?"_

_She shook her head, "No, not anymore." She whimpered softly, "I could have hurt him."_

_"_ _Who?" He asked, "Your muggle-born friend? He seemed just fine when he left."_

_"_ _I didn't hurt him, but I could have." She buried her face in her hands, "I can't control my magic, Mr. Ollivander. I'm old enough, I shouldn't…I'm mean accidental magic in children is one thing, but I'm…"_

_He pulled her into a hug, and now she could see the tears in his eyes, "Oh, Miranda, I so wish I could tell you."_

_The her in the vision shoved him off her, and stood quickly, her skirts swishing violently, "No! I'm so sick of that! No one will tell me the truth. Maybe Brennan was right?" She tugged on her own hair and began pacing the shop, her breaths coming in short bursts._

_"_ _Miranda, please calm down." Ollivander told her urgently._

_Memory Miranda seemed to blur for a moment, but the distortion vanished when she shook her head, "No! There's something wrong with me! I'm losing time! I'm getting hurt and I don't remember it! I used to be clumsy, but I'm not anymore, not enough to explain all the bruises and scratches I don't remember getting." She blurred out again for a second, "I feel like I'm about to explode."_

_He seemed afraid to touch her, but did anyway, "I wish I could tell you what you…"_

_Her blue eyes raked him mercilessly and she stepped back sharply, "Tell me."_

_"_ _I can't." He said, tears in his eyes, "Dear girl, I…"_

_"_ _Stop lying!" She screamed, and finally…she seemed to explode, a dark sparking mass of energy filling the space around where she'd been, zipping around the shop, virtually tearing it apart._

_Ollivander stood in the middle of it all, horror on his face as he begged her to calm down. Something he said eventually must have worked because suddenly the energy was gone, and Memory Miranda slid into the wall, unconscious._

_Ollivander pulled her into his arms and held her, drawing a necklace out go his shirt pocket and holding it tightly in his hands._

_Grindelwald appeared an instant later, "What happened?"_

_Ollivander wiped tears out of his own eyes, "She was inconsolable. Talked about missing time and being injured without remembering." He glared at Grindelwald, "She hasn't been harmed here. What have you done to her?"_

_The man who wore her Papa's face grimaced, "It appears I'm not quite the healer I though I was. I've done all I can to protect her, Mr. Ollivander, and to prepare her to protect herself if I can't." He gestured around the shop, broken wands everywhere, cracks in the walls, "This is what I am trying to prevent by keeping her happy, Mr. Ollivander."_

_He knelt in front of them both, and cupped Miranda's face in his hands. His terrifying coloring faded to the blond curls and warm blue eyes she'd been so familiar with, just before Memory Miranda opened her eyes. "Papa?"_

_He smiled at her, "There you are, Pet." He stroked her tangled dark hair out of her eyes, "You've had a hard day. You're tired now, but Papa is here to make it all better." He held his wand next to her temple, "Obliviate."_

_Just like that her memories were gone._

_Exhaustion and the force of the spell had Memory Miranda passing back out. Grindelwald stepped back, ice returning to his features, "Make tea. Tell her she fell asleep after the long day, give her a cup, and Claudius will be here soon to bring her home. I think she'll stay away for a few days." He knelt back down and adjusted the silver snake where it dangled half off her wrist, "This trinket keeps her grounded, Mr. Ollivander. You would be dead if she'd lost control without it."_

_"_ _You are going to destroy her." Ollivander hissed._

_Grindelwald shook his head, waving his wand and righting the shop to it's previous disarray, "She was already destroyed. I've simply spent these last few years piecing her back together. You're an intelligent man, you know she should be long dead, but here she is. I'm the only reason she's still here."_

_"_ _Merlin knows she's the only good you've ever done." Ollivander snapped._

_Grindelwald shook his head, "Not the only. Everything I've done has been for the Greater Good. You'll understand someday."_

_"_ _When? After you've gotten her killed?"_

The memory ended abruptly, and Miranda lost the contents of her stomach onto the floor. Her thoughts raced, and she resigned herself to laying on the dusty floor until her head stopped feeling ready to burst. It took a while. How long she wasn't sure, but she came back to herself slowly.

Deep down nothing she'd seen in the memories was truly a surprise. And perhaps that was what shook her the most. She had known on some level that her Papa was dangerous, and still had plenty of memories that would have been a good indication if she'd ever bothered to notice the pattern. She'd been so naive. But Mr. Ollivander's affections had been genuine, hadn't they? He'd been unable to tell her, to physically warn her, but he'd left the memories for her, all those years, even when he had to have assumed she'd died.

In the end there was only one true mystery: What the bloody hell was she?

There wasn't time though. She'd used too much time hunting down ancient history. None of it mattered to the task at hand. Voldemort, the twisted shell of her brother, was out there killing and maiming. Gellert Grindelwald was in prison. He couldn't steal her mind from her anymore, and she wasn't going to spend more time crying over him. Whatever power that lived inside of her wasn't a threat as long as she remained in control of herself. She'd grown up in the last year, far more than he had anticipated, apparently, because she'd shaken recently, but she hadn't lost her grip.

Miranda paused at that. He had made it seem like the snake was keeping her together, but it had obviously failed back then, and she didn't have it now…

Harry. She had Harry. The feeling she felt whenever she was near him, the utter contentment and security…a long time ago the serpent bracelet had made her feel the same way. Ollivander had made it sound like her magic had a life of its own. Maybe it liked Harry just as much as she did. Harry, not the snake, grounded her now.

Miranda had to laugh at that. The last few months she'd been under the assumption that she had been keeping Harry from flying too far off the handle. She was wrong.

She also knew she needed to get back to him. She had tried to warn him, and now she understood why that need had been so strong. Tom being her brother wasn't the most dangerous thing about her. She would never forgive herself if she hurt someone, and she knew, deep down, that she could never, ever, hurt Harry James Potter. She would kill herself before she ever came close.

Miranda took a deep breath and apparated to the first place she thought of when she thought of Ron: The Burrow.


	14. The Burrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miranda heads to the Burrow!

The instant she stopped spinning and felt her feet on the ground, she knew she was in trouble. There was a shimmer of where Ron had landed alright, but along the lines of her usual luck while blind, she immediately stumbled forward and tripped a warning ward. She could only wait to see what kind of people came to hex her. There wasn't any use in running, and apparating without her sight always took a lot out of her and after her recent trip down memory lane…she wouldn't be able to apparate again for a while.

 

She got hit with a knock back jinx and flew backwards, falling onto her rear. "Who are you?" A woman yelled.

 

Miranda put her wand on the ground next to her and held up both hands, begging herself to stay calm even as her instincts begged her to let loose and fight back, ”My name is Miranda Peverell. I'm looking for Ron Weasley."

 

"Looking for Ron?" The same woman said breathlessly, and, after the way she said his name, Miranda was fairly certain that she was Ron's mother.

 

A male voice spoke, "He's ill. Has been all year."

 

Miranda smiled, "I know Ron isn't ill. I was with him a few days ago. I've been helping Harry too."

 

She felt a wand at her throat, "Pull up your left sleeve."

 

Miranda complied, but couldn't resist opening her mouth, "They checked already. I don't have whatever mark you're looking for. I haven't even the slightest idea what it's supposed to look like. I am blind after all."

 

"She's not marked." The man confirmed.

 

"I told you." Miranda quipped before dread filled her, "Ron's not here, is he? He wouldn’t have stayed here, it’s too obvious. He changed his mind. He's not here. Damn it.”

 

She had let her emotions get the better of her after all, hadn’t she, and she’d made a hasty decision. She supposed the only consolation was that the thing inside of her hadn’t killed everyone she’d ever been near.

 

The woman was oblivious to her inner turmoil, however, and kept talking, her voice becoming more and more shrill with every word, "Arthur, what if she's telling the truth? What if Ron isn't with Harry anymore?"

 

"Molly!" Another male voice admonished, far deeper than Miranda had ever heard before, and enough to make her flinch back unintentionally, ”How did you come to be acquainted with Ronald Weasley, girl?"

 

"I used to work in a muggle cafe..."

 

"What's a ka-fe like?" The first man asked excitedly.

 

"Um...it has coffee? This is the Burrow, is it not?" Miranda said tentatively.

 

"Yes, now, coffee..." The man who had to be Ron’s father continued.

 

"Arthur!" The deep voiced man hissed, cutting the apparent ramble off. "Girl, continue."

 

Miranda smiled as best as she could, even though smiling was the last thing she wanted to do. ”The night the trio left here, they ended up in my cafe and were attacked. I've been with them since."

 

"How can we believe you?" Deep Voice said again.

 

Miranda searched her memory and her mind fell upon an image of the haggard werewolf she met in Grimmauld Place. She scrambled for his name, “Remus…uh…Lupin? I met him whilst we were staying in Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. If you're looking for someone to vouch for me, Lupin can, or even Kreacher the house elf."

 

"You met Remus?" Molly Weasley asked, and Miranda nodded, "Come on, Kingsley. Surely we can take the girl inside until Remus can get here. You can hold on to her wand, but I don't think she means any harm. She's blind and she looks as though she’s been through a lot recently."

 

Miranda smiled in the direction of the woman, hating that she apparently looked as lost as she felt, "You're everything I imagined. I've heard loads about you, all good things of course, Mrs. Weasley."

 

"Girl, you may come inside, but your wand is mine until further notice." Deep Voice said authoritatively, and Miranda wanted to resist. Ollivander had given her that wand, even if he’d somehow known or thought she didn’t need it. The wood was familiar, and it had never failed her when she needed it.

 

"Thank you." She whispered instead, trying to stand, but slipping on what appeared to be the edge of a marsh, drenching herself. Mrs. Weasley grabbed her arm and pulled her up.

 

"Careful, dear, let's get you inside and get some food in you. You are far too skinny." Molly tutted, steering the girl by an elbow.

 

Miranda laughed awkwardly, "Harry told me you always tell him that."

 

Molly laughed softly, "It's why the men folk keep me around. I keep them from starving themselves. Now, why is Ron not with Harry and Hermione anymore?" She asked, guiding Miranda to the sofa in the front room.

 

Miranda sighed, "He and Harry got in a fight. He was tired and hungry, and he lost his temper. Hermione's devastated. I was going to try convincing him to come back."

 

Molly tutted once more, tucking a blanket in around her and whispering a spell to banish the chill, "I was afraid something like that would happen. Those boys really are like brothers, you know?”

 

“Exactly like brothers.” Miranda agreed, “It will all be fine once Ron comes back. Harry's already forgiven him I think. Do you have any idea where else Ron might have gone?" Miranda asked, feeling exhaustion start to creep in. She should have rested before she’d gone off after Ron. Another strike against her decision making abilities.

 

Molly put a cup into her hand, "It's water, dear. I'm not sure, besides Hogwarts, Ron hasn't spent much time anywhere else. My baby boy." She said trailed off, obviously distressed.

 

Miranda shook her head, “You shouldn’t worry. He’ll be fine. Although if I can't find him, I'll have to go back to Harry and Hermione in a few days and tell them that he's not going to come back to us to help again."

 

"How are things going?" Arthur asked, "What are you kids up to? Staying safe?”

 

Miranda shifted uncomfortably, "Harry made me promise not to tell. We’re being safe, after all.”

 

"Remus is on his way." Deep Voice interrupted, sounding unhappy, "He says he knows her but wants to make sure it's her."

 

Molly tittered on about Ron, Harry, and Hermione animatedly, and Miranda found herself loving every minute of it, letting herself be lulled into a half asleep state where her eyes drifted shut every so often. This woman was the closest thing to a mother Harry had ever had, and she found herself endeared to the woman for it. She didn’t think either of them were surprised when she finally fell asleep.

 

"I was told you were here." Came the unpleasant voice of Remus Lupin as he strode into the house, jolting Miranda out of her nap.

 

Miranda was too tired to rise to the bait he was setting, “Are you going to hex me again, or would you rather me go get Harry so you can do a two for one again?"

 

He hissed at her like an animal, "You impertinent little girl."

 

Miranda could tell she channeling the rage Harry still felt at his ex-professor, but with her recent discovery fresh on her mind she sucked in a deep breath before she opened her mouth to speak again, "I just don't appreciate being hexed."

 

Lupin sighed heavily, "You have every right to be angry. Has Harry forgiven me?"

 

The rage fled Miranda's body completely, and she nodded, "He loves you. He's still angry, but you're practically an uncle to him. He'll forgive you once you set things right."

 

Miranda stood carefully, doing her best not to get tangled in the warm blanket she’d been covered in. She shouldn't have been able to feel Harry from so far away, in any capacity. Unless...yes, it had to be...the parts of her brother that were in them both connected them.

 

Her brother had been reduced to an insane creature driven by anger and rage, and something dark was barely held tight inside of her, so it only made sense that the rage could have seeped into the both of them. She was chilled by the idea of feeling such powerful anger that wasn't her own.

 

The stark reality was that if she hadn’t made her new revelation, that she might have flown off the handle, and she might have killed Lupin. She was certainly capable, and it would have been all too easy if the thing had gotten loose. He wouldn't have had anytime to protect himself, werewolf nature or not.

 

Lupin cleared his throat, "That's her. She was in Grimmauld Place with the others."

 

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” Miranda started, unsettled by the whole situation, “I should go now.”

 

"Nonsense, dear, come have a cup of tea and get some food. Any friend of those three is a friend to me. You must meet Ginny. She only got home this morning for a long weekend. I think that's her just come down into the kitchen. We will all be thrilled to hear about what you four have been up to while we fire call around for Ron. He might be with one of his bothers." Molly stated firmly, and the small child in Miranda responded instantly to the tone of voice she had heard so frequently in the orphanage. She had to remind herself that Molly wasn't those women, she just wanted to help her, and it kept her response in check. 

 

"Mrs. Weasley, I couldn't, really. I really haven't got any substantial news that I could share, regardless." Miranda protested meekly.

 

"Nonsense, you are a friend and we treated you like an enemy before letting you say a word. You really are far too skinny, just like Harry.” Molly Weasley insisted, ushering her husband towards the kitchen.

 

Kingsley stopped them from reaching the kitchen, “Your wand.”

 

The wood pressed into her hand, and Miranda couldn’t help but sigh, “Thank you.” She felt so much better with her wand in hand, but suddenly stopped when she realized that the girl sitting in the kitchen she was walking towards had dated Harry. Now was her chance to see what kind of girl Ginevra Weasley was. But she wasn't sure she wanted to take it.

 

Of all the things she could have been thinking, she just really didn't want to hurt the girl. She wanted to be friends with her, for some unknown reason. She took a deep breath and headed towards the comforting, bustling noises of the kitchen, only running into one coffee table with her shins. "This could go so, so badly." She whispered to herself at the kitchen door, bracing herself.

\--------------

Strangely enough, it wasn't that bad. Naturally though, Miranda left out the fact that she and Harry were in love, deeming such a topic inappropriate to discuss over sandwiches and tea. Ginny was nice, and offered Miranda a bed in her room to spend the night.

 

Against her better judgment, Miranda agreed and that night, after a dinner spread bigger than any she'd ever eaten or even seen in her life, settled into the bed across the room from Ginny’s with her belly full for the first time in a long time. It was nice to sleep, for the first time since she woke up, in a bed that wasn't terrible or charmed to hell. Ginny and the rest of them had kept her up until nearly midnight asking questions, each of which required intense thought on Miranda's part about how much could be told.

 

"Miranda, does Harry talk about me?" Ginny asked when they were in bed. The redhead  hadn’t laid down yet, and had to be sitting, staring at her, waiting for an answer.

 

Miranda just stared at the ceiling. She should have expected this question at some point, but it seemed to blindside her. "Um..." The dark haired girl started hesitantly, "They all talk about you...that's how I know so much about you and your family. You're Ron's baby sister, Hermione's best girl-friend, and Harry's ex-girlfriend. I know that you're amazing a Quidditch and your signature spell is some...Bat Bogey Hex or something like that. There's not much to do out there but to talk."

 

Ginny sighed, "So I'm the ex-girlfriend now. I should have seen that coming."

 

"Ginny, I'm sorry." Miranda said, ashamed that she was the cause of the other girl's distress, and feeling guilty that she’d said ‘ex’ so thoughtlessly.

 

Ginny shook her head, "Don't be. Unless..." She went quiet for a moment before hissing, "You."

 

Miranda stood up, putting a hand on the wand in her pajama pocket. "Ginny, I'm sorry. Really, I am. Harry and I...we love each other."

 

Ron's little sister audibly clenched her jaw, "He used to love me." She said harshly.

 

Miranda waited for the rage to flare up again, but the monster inside her stayed at rest, allowing her cooler side to speak with the girl. "Ginny, I don't know what happened in the past and I do feel bad, but until he decides otherwise, he and I are together. I'm sorry if that hurts you. I don't want to hurt anyone. That was never my intention."

 

Ginny flopped back on her bed, "Well at least you didn't say anything in front of my parents. They would have ripped you to shreds on my behalf."

 

Miranda took her hand off of her wand and sat up on the edge of her bed, astounded, "You're taking this rather well."

 

Ginny smiled grimly at her, even though she knew the older girl couldn’t see her, "I have six brothers, I know how guys work. I guess I'd sort of prepared myself for this. At least you're nice. If you were a total bitch, I would have probably hexed you."

 

Miranda laughed, "Well thank you for not hexing me. I was rather afraid I wouldn't survive staying the night here."

 

Ginny pulled her covers up over herself, "The night's not over yet. I still have time to change my mind and be angry." She shrugged, "I guess that means I'm single again, right? If we weren't in the middle of a war, I could have a rebound boyfriend in ten minutes."

 

"You wouldn't really do that, would you?" Miranda said with a smile.

 

"Nah." Ginny replied and the two girls stayed up talking for another hour.

 

At breakfast, something wasn't sitting right with Miranda. Molly tittered on about Ron, Harry and Hermione, and Miranda listened intently, at least until a strange noise floated to her ear. "Do you lot hear that?"

 

"What?" Said Deep Voice, who she now knew to be a powerful and influential wizard named Kingsley.

 

“I don’t hear anything, dear. Are you alright?” Molly asked.

 

“I’m fine.” Miranda said as she stood from the table, excusing herself quietly, "That...hissing." She followed the noise, running into a door and fumbling helplessly with the knob, which obviously had been the victim of one of the Weasley’s modifications.

 

"I hear it too." Arthur said suddenly, hopping up from his chair and opening the door for Miranda, "It's coming from my garage!"

 

“Oh, honestly, Arthur, what on earth have you got in there now?" Molly said, striding towards her husband's workshop. Miranda could imagine that her face was as red as her hair was likely to be in her frustration.

 

"Nothing, Molly, nothing! I haven't got anything..." He trailed off, "I did bring home a cursed little trinket from the office. They couldn't get the spells off of it. The thing bites. Yaxley brought it to the department for it to be investigated." The muggle fanatic said.

 

Miranda stopped, her head tipping to the side at the name, "Did you say Yaxley?"

 

"Yes, I did. How do you know about him?" Arthur said.

 

Miranda nodded, "He stole something from me, and I believe it's trying to come back to me." She made the final strides to the workshop and flipped the latch she found on the door.

 

She stopped once she entered, closing her eyes. She nearly cried when she felt the warm pulsing metal on the top of her foot, trying to slither up her leg. "Careful!" Arthur yelled, "It does bite."

 

Miranda bent down and picked up the thin silver snake, her eyes still closed. "It won't bite me."

 

"Bloody hell." Arthur said, watching a girl, barely any older than his youngest son holding the silver snake that had nearly killed two of his coworkers when it went for their throats.

 

"I'm sorry if it hurt anyone. It rather has a mind of it’s own.” Miranda said, holding the snake to her face and sighing contently and marveling at her luck. "It helps me see.” And it apparently helped to keep the dark sparking monster at bay too.

 

"What?" Molly asked.

 

Miranda opened her eyes and Ginny gasped. "Your eyes are blue! They were hazel last night!" She exclaimed.

 

"So I've been told. I helped..." Miranda began.

 

Kingsley was staring at her, his wand pointed in her direction, yet again. And Miranda scowled at him yet again, "Yaxley took that off one of the girls that broke into the Ministry." He said, his tone demanding an explanation.

 

Miranda nodded furiously, her heart pounding, but the shaking didn’t come, "Yes, that was me. I thought I told that last night? I was quite upset when I lost this." She turned her blue eyes to Arthur, "I must thank you for bringing it home with you. I can be a lot more use to everyone now.” And hopefully she wouldn’t accidentally kill or maim anyone while she figured out what was wrong with her.

 

"How could a silver snake bring back your sight?" The huge black man asked her, still keeping his wand trained on her.

 

Miranda shrugged, downplaying the fact that the man was more than a little terrifying, "I haven't the foggiest. I was just a child when my father gave it to me. He never explained the fine details and I didn't know it bit people that got too close without my permission until it bit my best friend's youngest brother when he tried to sneak up behind me. Past that, it's just a charmed bracelet."

 

Ginny approached cautiously, "It's really actually quite beautiful. For a snake.”

 

Miranda smiled, "Thank you. I always thought it was too. This thing changed my life. I was almost totally blind for the first eleven years of my life." She looked the other girl over, “You are quite lovely. The red hair suits you much better than it does Ron."

 

Ginny laughed and slung an arm around her new friend's shoulder. "Don't I know it? Speaking of Ron...any news, mum?" She asked, looking at her mother.

 

Molly rung her hands, "He's at Shell Cottage with Bill. He doesn't want us to come see him." She looked upset by being rejected by her youngest son.

 

Miranda put a hand on the Matriarch's shoulder, "You shouldn't take it personally. He just doesn't want to put you in danger. He is supposed to be here sick in bed, right?"

 

Molly nodded, "I suppose that makes sense. Will you go see him?" Miranda murmured her affirmative. "Oh, alright, come on, girls, we might as well get a start on lunch."

 

She arched an eyebrow at Ginny as they went inside, "Didn't we just have breakfast?"

 

The red head shrugged with a smile, "Mum likes to cook when she's upset. I think it's part of the reason the Order has mostly been based here. Who wouldn't pass up free food?"

 

Ginny was a whole new sort of creature. Miranda had never met someone who simply glowed the way she did. As the day wore on and her time to floo to Shell Cottage approached, she couldn’t help but feel insignificant in comparison to Ginny. What could she offer to Harry that Ginny couldn't? Nothing. Ginny had a family, and Miranda knew that that kind of background and support was invaluable.

 

It didn't matter anyway, after the war was over, when the truth was out, she and Harry would be over, one way or another. She was sitting in Ginny's room when the other girl found her. "Miranda, aren't you ready to go yet? Mum has the fireplace set up already."

 

Miranda had found a sweater of Harry's in Ron's room and had it draped over her lap. It was what she had found in the pocket of the pants under this sweater that had her wanting to start sobbing or to kill something to make herself feel better. Of course thinking of wanting to kill something only made her feel worse.

 

On a worn piece of paper, she had found a prophecy written, and she could only assume that this was they prophecy that Harry, Ron and Hermione had spoken of so frequently:

 

_'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies ... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not ... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives.'_

 

Harry had interpreted it as that he just had to kill Voldemort, but Miranda read it differently. No one had factored her into the reading of this prophecy. She had to be a part of it, because she was Tom Marvolo Riddle's twin sister. She knew, deep down, that she was the 'other'. She blinked back tears at the thought of the implications of what had to happen if she was indeed, the 'other'.

 

"Ginny. I-I need to ask something of you." She began softly, her chest tight.

 

Ginny sat next to her, concerned, "What's wrong?”

 

Miranda felt like crying, at the blatant injustice of what she had discovered in the last two days. "Nothing yet, but, Ginny, if I don't make it through all of this, I need you to promise something."

 

"What is it?"

 

"We need to talk about Harry. At the end of the war, if he's still alive, he's going to need someone to be there to pick up the pieces." Miranda said.

 

"Miranda, I know you don't believe that I'm really okay with this, but I am..."

 

"No, Ginny. I want you to be the one that takes care of him if I can't."

 

"What do you mean if you can't take care of him?"

 

"I'm going to be quite plain. Ginny, if I die, if you still care about Harry, I give you my blessing to get back with him." Miranda said bluntly, wincing at her own words.

 

Ginny's hand snapped across her face. "You bitch!" Miranda just stared at the younger girl, stunned, her cheek stinging. "You make it sound like Harry's a pet we both want to adopt! He's not something you can just give away to anyone!"

 

Miranda felt like she could cry at any moment, her throat was tight and her jaw felt like jelly, "That's not...not what I'm saying..." She didn't know how to tell Ginny what she meant without telling her about the prophecy or who she was and how terribly he would hate her in the end. "I just...I don't want him to be alone."

 

Ginny's expression softened, "You know, it doesn't matter if he's not my boyfriend, Harry will always be my friend, and I'm going to be with him whenever he needs me." She shook her head, "Even if he did want to get back together, who's to say I would even still feel the same way?"

 

"I...understand." Miranda whispered.

 

Ginny pulled her to her feet, "Come on, if you don't go to Shell Cottage now, I think Mum will go in your place."

 

Miranda gave her a watery smile, "I just hope your brother doesn't hex me again."

 

Ginny laughed, handing her a well worn handkerchief, "You have a problem with that, don't you?"

 

Miranda couldn't help but to giggle as she wiped her eyes, "Yeah, this is actually the best introduction to new people I've had in recent months."

 

Ginny hugged her before she stepped into the fireplace, her bags a little heavier, with food and some things the other three had left, as well as the folded piece of paper in her front pocket. "I think you and I are going to get along just fine, Miranda Peverell. Even though I bet he does hex you. You just make sure to bring them all back to us in one piece."

 

Miranda smiled at her new friend, "I'm going to do my best, Ginny. I really am." As she stepped into the fire, she braced herself for what would happen next, even though she knew that no amount of fore knowledge would make a difference. To bring her brother down, good people were going to have to die. The only thing she could do was make sure he went with them. And if she had to go with him, so be it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think!  
> -Jenn


	15. Shell Cottage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miranda travels to Shell Cottage to find Ron, and gets a lot more than she bargained for.

Ron did hex her. Right as the flames died in the fireplace.

 

She shouldn't have expected anything different from her not so friendly friend. So, laying in the ash of the fireplace, Miranda just laughed.

 

"Are you nutters! You left 'Mione and Harry out there alone!" Ron screamed, his face red.

 

Miranda just continued laughing, so hard that tears filled her eyes, and she barely heard a female voice ask, "Es she alvight?", in an accent that sounded very French.

 

Ron was panicking, "I just hit her with a knock back! She should have been fine!"

 

Miranda heard an unfamiliar male voice, "Ron, I think you better check on her. We'll go get her some water."

 

Ron nudged her with his foot, "Miranda? Are you...okay?"

 

She stifled her laughter, sitting up as she wiped her weepy eyes, “Ginny. She bet you'd hex me. Sorry about the laughing. I was just a little...never mind." She stood suddenly and hugged Ron, stunning the boy, "You've really blown it this time, Ronald." She whispered into his ear.

 

"What?" He asked as she stepped back with a smile on her face.

 

"We were worried half to death for you. I'm not sure Hermione will forgive you when you come back." She said simply, taking in the sight of him and marveling at just how worried she’d been. The bastard. Somewhere along the way he’d wormed his way into her heart, just enough for her to be relieved to see him alive and well.

 

"She's mad? I offered for her to come!" He yelled, his face instantly flushing red.

 

Miranda slapped him, just as Ginny had slapped her, "Of course she's mad, you nitwit! You can't ask a girl to choose something like that! Oaf! I'm mad at you even, and I don't even like you!"

 

He shrugged, "At least the feeling's mutual.”

 

They were both liars there.

 

"Agh! You really are daft, aren't you? I'm here because you need to get it into your thick skull that they need you to be with them." Miranda groused.

 

"They don't need me. They've got you." Ron said, throwing himself into a comfortable looking armchair.

 

Miranda felt any lingering frustration fade, "Ron, I could never replace you. You're their friend, and have been for a long time. You mean far more to them than I do. I might be close to Harry, but you're his best friend."

 

"Still doesn't change the fact that we're getting nowhere." He said, glaring at her.

 

Miranda glared back at him, "Well, backing out isn't going to help. It shows weak constitution. There's nothing I can do that you couldn't do if you set your mind to it."

 

It looked for a second like he was getting it, like it was sinking into his freaky thick head that she wasn't going to steal them from him. She wanted to tell him that at the end of the war, she wasn't going to be an issue, but he wasn't like his sister...he would open his big mouth. His brother interrupted his internal consideration. "Are you sure you’re all right?" He asked, handing Miranda a glass of water.

 

"Yeah, it's not like he hasn't done that to me before. I’m beginning to think it's just his way of greeting me." She tipped her head towards Ron's older brother, "Thank you for the water. I'm Miranda by the way, Miranda Peverell. You must be Bill."

 

The man smiled, and Miranda was instantly taken with him, just as she had been with his sister and parents. It seemed like Ron was the only Weasley who lacked tact, "Not a problem. So, you've heard about Ron's mauled brother."

 

Miranda looked around him at Fleur, "Actually, I heard about the brother with the lovely French wife. Congratulations on your marriage by the way. That was the same night I met Ron, Harry and Hermione. Fortuitous events I believe.”

 

"T'ank you." Fleur said with a smile. "You are very polite, Ron usually has not such friends b'sides 'Arry and 'Ermione."

 

Miranda smiled at Ron, "Well, I'm more their friend than Ron's."

 

"She's snogging Harry. That's what she means. And she and 'Mione are all over the books together." Ron growled. Fleur and Bill raised their eyebrows at each other and slipped out of the living room.

 

"Well, Ron, she's not all over anything anymore. You need to come back with me in three days." Miranda said curtly.

 

"three days?" Ron said.

 

"Yes, I said I'd meet Harry back where we were in a weeks time. This is the fourth day. I had trouble finding you.” Miranda explained easily, as if the first two days hadn’t been spent destroying every remaining thing she’d thought was true about her past.

 

Ron looked thoughtful, but his face then resumed it's previous venture in trying to match his hair, "No. I can't forgive what he said. Not that quickly. You can stay here or at the Burrow until then, but I'm not going back."

 

She sighed, "I guess I expected too much for you to feel incredibly guilty, didn't I? At least I get to tell Harry that I was right." She said, baiting Ron.

 

"Right about what?" He nearly shouted when she turned away, looking at the pictures hung on the wall.

 

Miranda smiled like a cat who had just caught a fat rat, "That you're an insufferable prat. He thought rather highly of you, kept defending you. I told him you were slowing us down."

 

“You- you slow us down!" Ron yelled at her. She looked him straight in the eyes and he paled, "Your eyes..."

 

"Yes, Ronald, I can see again. Now you're the one slowing them down. First with your atrocious attitude, and now they're sick with worry over you. 'Mione's half convinced you've splinched yourself to death. You're gone, and you still slow them down. You're pathetic, Ronald. You don't deserve friends like them with the way you've been acting." Miranda took a step into his personal space, just inches from him as she blew air on his fiery temper. With any luck, she'd just blown it out.

 

Just as she'd hoped, he went even paler, and assumed a very pitiful look, complete with a trembling lower lip. "I didn't realize."

 

She smiled kindly at him, and pulled him into a hug, "I know you didn't. It's alright. You haven't done a thing that can't be fixed." He started sobbing, just like Tom had as a child after staying angry for too long. Miranda just stroked his red hair, murmuring to him, "Hush, Ron, they love you. You just need to get your head out of your arse."

 

"Why am I crying?" He blubbered out as she moved them to a plush ottoman.

 

"Everyone needs a good cry ever once in a while, even men. Just let it all out. You'll feel better, I promise." She said softly, recalling all the times she’d cried in recent memory.

 

"You sound like Looney." He said.

 

"Looney?" She asked, handing him his sister's handkerchief. "What's that?"

 

"Luna, she's a girl at school. She's a friend, but almost as nutters as you are." He said, wiping his face. "We call her Looney behind her back...to her front sometimes too."

 

Miranda shook her head, bemused, ”I'm going to take that as a compliment."

 

"You shouldn't. She's insane, really bloody nuts. Sweet, but barmy." Ron grumbled, "You made me cry."

 

Miranda smiled, "I told you, you just needed a good cry."

 

"I've never seen you cry." Ron said, the thought about her being unnatural crossing his mind again.

 

Just like she had with Dolores Umbridge, Miranda unconsciously tripped up Ron's mind in the web of her eyes, "Ron, please, you've seen me cry. Don't you remember?"

 

Ron fell easily, "Yeah, yeah, sorry, I remember."

 

"So, will you come back with me?" Miranda said after a few minutes of silence, hoping that he had changed his mind, and also hoping she wouldn’t burst into tears herself. That charm she’d used to her advantage all her life, was it hers? Or was it the monsters?

 

Ron vigorously dried his face, "Not in three days. I need more time than that. Some of the things he said, they're going to take a while for me to forgive. I'm sorry."

 

Miranda knew when she was out of luck. No amount of her charm was going to make Ron change his mind. She gave a wry smile. "I'm sorry too. I'll be at the Burrow with your mum and Ginny then. Just come there if you change your mind."

 

"Thank you, Miranda. I feel better." He said humbly.

 

"I'll just be going now." Miranda said, standing back up.

 

"Won't you stay for dinner?" Bill said, coming back into the room.

 

Miranda smiled as Ron turned his head away to hide his red eyes, "I'd love to, thanks for letting us commandeer your living room. I apologize for making a scene."

 

"It wasn't a problem, Ron can be a prat sometimes, our brother Percy too." Bill said with a goofy smile that made Miranda giggle.

 

Ron looked indignant, "I'm not a prat!"

 

"Well, you're brother is right, you do look like a prat." Miranda said, enjoying the ability to banter with Ron without being reigned in by Harry or Hermione.

 

"If you want to know what a prat looks like, you need to see Malfoy." Ron said snappily.

 

"What's a Malfoy?" Miranda asked, helping Fleur set the table against the woman's protests.

 

"Draco Malfoy, a bloody Slytherin and a right foul git. He's parents are two of You-Know-Who's biggest followers. His aunt is practically in love with the snake." Ron said, stuffing a biscuit in his mouth.

 

Miranda winced, "What's this Draco done to you?"

 

"He was supposed to kill Dumbledore..."

 

"I thought your Professor Snape killed Dumbledore?" Miranda

 

Ron glared good-naturedly at her, "Well yeah, but Draco was going to do it. He really was. And he's just a git. Likes to pick on little kids and stuff like that."

 

Miranda half smiled, "Ron, just because he's a bit of a bully doesn't mean that he's a bad person. He hasn't killed or seriously anyone yet, has he?” She’d known for a long time that there was a stark difference between a bully and demons like Henry Matlock.

 

"No, but...he will! It's just a matter of time! His parents..."

 

"Are not the only factor in how someone turns out." Miranda interrupted. "Were you ever kind to him?"

 

Ron was taken aback by her words, "No, but..."

 

"No, Ron, no but's. Children aren't always like their parents. You wouldn't blame your parents for your brother Percy being a git, would you?" Miranda said sternly.

 

Bill chuckled, "I like her. She and Hermione must be great friends."

 

Miranda smirked, "Thank you, but Hermione would much rather spend time with Ronald. I wouldn't doubt if she didn't even realize I'm gone!"

 

Ron looked smug at her words, but Fleur nixed any reply his brain was trying to formulate, "Din'er es re'dy."

 

The meal was...tolerable. The food was better than what they had been eating, but since Miranda now knew the glorious food that came out of the Burrow kitchen, it was lackluster and left Miranda a bit uncomfortable, her stomach aching.

 

She assured Fleur, of course, that the food was amazing. The was no sense in discouraging the new wife, not when she had watched Bill's face as he had eaten every bite. She was trying, but without the help of her mother-in-law, the attempts were falling terribly short. At least Ron had managed to be equally polite, even if his praises had sounded a little more forced than the others had.

 

After dinner was over, Miranda excused herself to the loo.

 

The figure she saw standing in the mirror froze her faster than Petrificus Totalus.

 

It was her, but her body looked all wrong. She was tiny now, her body, while always slim in the past, seemed to be wasting away.

 

Her waist was several inches slimmer, and her arms looked too thin, so did her legs. Her cheeks were beginning to hollow themselves out and her fingers looked eerily similar to just bone. Her hands, in fact, were shaking nearly uncontrollably.

 

All in all, her appearance had become that of a humanoid stork; too tall and too thin to really look all that normal.

 

How Harry could stand to look at her, much less touch her while they slept baffled her. Hermione had not wasted away so quickly, had she? No, she hadn't. While the other girl had certainly shed a few pounds, according to Miranda's memory, she still looked perfectly human.

 

Like this, Miranda found herself making comparisons to her brother's new form, and it made her sick. Leaning over the sink, Miranda pinched her eyes closed, swearing to herself that she would remember to eat more, and willing herself not to lose the meal she’d just eaten.

 

The shaking had to stop though, be it a reaction to how she looked or the signs of another magical outburst, Miranda couldn’t afford to lose it. Not here with these people who had been nothing but kind.

 

When she opened her eyes and stood back up straight, the sight in the mirror made her heart leap to her throat. There was a man standing just behind her right shoulder, with a face she knew far better than her own. ”Tom?” She whispered, not wanting to turn around to look at him for the fear that if she did, he wouldn't be there.

 

His handsome face, that had once looked just like hers, broke into a blinding  smile. "Randa."

 

She nodded, just as excited and terrified as anyone would have felt. She felt a ghost of a hand fit into hers and could hardly breathe. "Are you... dead?"

 

He grimaced, “Mostly. My body isn't my own anymore."

 

Miranda licked her dry lips, suddenly feeling chilled, "But...you're still here. You're not totally gone."

 

He smiled, "No, I'm not. You would know if I was, Miranda." He narrowed his eyes at her, "You don't look well. You're so skinny."

 

She nodded, "I know. I haven't been eating very much. We've been..."

 

"Don't, Miranda. Don't tell me where you are or were. I'm not certain He can't read my mind. I don't want to put you in danger." He urged.

 

Miranda's mood dipped even further, "Maybe I want Him to find me."

 

His face was stern when she looked back up at him, and it was an expression Miranda had seen countless times in her youth. "Whatever you have planned, you have to do it. You're smart, Miranda. I'm not worth it. Even if you could save me, I'm tainted. I'll never be just me again. That's what I came to tell you. Don't fight for me. I'm not worth it, not anymore."

 

Miranda gasped and tears started to roll down her face, "Oh, Tom. What has become of us?"

 

Tom looked anguished, and his free hand reached up to her face only to stop when he remembered that he couldn't really touch her, only their hands, where the line between them blurred, could make contact that they could both feel. "Randa, please, don't cry for me. I'm not worth it. I don't think I ever was. I've never been like you, Miranda. Before He came into my mind. All those years ago, when we were children, that boy died. He didn’t end up at the bottom of the stairs on his own. I can't blame that on Volde...well, you know what I'm talking about. That was me, Miranda, not Him. You have to realize that."

 

"It was Him, Tom, it was!" Miranda whined.

 

Tom shook his head, "Miranda, he didn't touch me until after you left. He couldn’t gain a foothold in me if I hadn’t been primed already by my own evil. I did terrible things to protect us, out of revenge for what they did to you. I didn’t know why I did it then, but, Miranda, I swear to you that none of those worms made it to adulthood.”

 

"Then it is my fault." She said, her voice hollow.

 

Anger flared in Tom's ghostly eyes, "I don't ever want to hear you say something like that ever again. This is not your fault. It is mine, and mine alone. It’s my fault that those worms laid a hand on you in the first place. I shouldn’t have tried to play nice. The only one who gave into Him was me."

 

"No, I shouldn't have left! I should have fought them harder. I should have fought my…Grindelwald! Me leaving you caused all of this! It's always been my fault! Something is wrong with me!” Miranda yelled, turning to her right only to find that Tom had vanished.

 

There was a knock on the door, drawing Miranda's eyes away from the vacant stretch of space beside her, "Mi'randa, are you al'vight?"

 

Fleur, Miranda thought, recognizing the accent and using the airy lilting voice to pull herself back into reality. She wiped her eyes and opened the door, trying to catch her breath, ”Yes, I'm fine. I just needed a moment."

 

Fleur looked her up and down, "You look like you could use a varm sho'ver. Would you 'ike to have one before you go back to the Burrow? It can be ‘ard to get any peace there, especially in the loo."

 

She smiled graciously, "That would be lovely. Thank you so much. There's only so clean Evenesco can get you after a while."

 

Fleur giggled, "T'at must be awful. Do you have clean clothes?"

 

"Well, just spelled clean." Miranda said, wincing.

 

"Then you can wear some of my clothes while I get yours really cleaned." Fleur said, pulling Miranda into her and Bill's bedroom. "You s'ould ask Molly for some of 'Ermoine's clothes so you can take t'em to her."

 

"I'll do that." Miranda said, taking a stack of clothes from Fleur and pulling out her old clothes. "What do you want me to do with these?"

 

"I'll take t'em." Fleur said, opening a basket for Miranda to put her stuff in. "They should be ready once you get out of the shower."

 

"Thank you." Miranda said.

 

Fleur looked a little sad, "You will leave tonight?" Miranda nodded, "I don't mean to sound...petty, but I wish you cou'd stay. I l'uv Bill, but it gets so lonely 'ere."

 

Miranda smiled at her, "You know what, I wouldn't mind staying here, but I can't. Harry and Hermione need me."

 

Fleur smiled, "I unde'stand. I jus' wish it wasn't so."

 

After her shower, Miranda put on the pale blue dress Fleur had given her to wear with the girl's help, and was amazed that it fit her better than her own clothes did. It didn't hang off of her body, but rather fit her smoothly. It reminded her of the dresses she had worn whilst living with her Papa, the top somewhat binding while the bottom part was flowing.

 

"You look...pretty." Ron said when she walked into the living area.

 

Bill whacked him on the back of the head and both women giggled, "T'e dress suits you. I'm so pleased!" Fleur said when they had finished laughing, "I've been a bit of a fashionista since I was a child."

 

Miranda smoothed the front of it, admiring the intricate needle work, "It's beautiful. Thank you for letting me borrow it. I used to wear things like this when I was young."

 

"Nonsense, you must 'eep it. I have ot'ers." Fleur insisted.

 

Miranda felt overwhelmed by the hospitality, though appreciated, it was stifling given how dark her current mood was, "I couldn't."

 

"'ou will." Fleur said defiantly.

 

"Well than, thank you." Miranda relented, not finding the strength to continue fighting the French woman. Fleur had been more than hospitable, she was looking for a friend.

 

"Who is this lovely new creature you lot have been hiding from me?" Said a husky voice that caused a shiver to go down Miranda's spine.

 

Another Weasley came into the room from behind Bill. Ron whipped his head to glare at his brother, "Charlie, sod off, she's Harry's girlfriend."

 

"Don't worry, I won't bite...hard." The new Weasley was undeniably handsome, far more built than his brothers while still remaining lean. She knew that Charlie was the dragon tamer, and Miranda got the feeling, from the air of confidence and danger around him, that his bed was ever cold for long.

 

Even though she loved Harry, she couldn't help but to be taken with Charlie’s veritable charm, "I'm Miranda Peverell. I'm to assume that you are Charlie Weasley," She said, holding a hand out to him, intending to have him shake it.

 

A grin broke across his handsome, but scarred, face as he seemed to recognize that she wasn't immune to him. He planted a kiss on her knuckles. "I am in awe of your beauty fair one. Perhaps I could convince you that I'm better than the Boy-Who-Lived?”

 

She let laughter bubble from her chest, "Be careful, Firehead, I'm not as docile as I appear.” She warned, looking through her lashes at him.

 

Ron laughed heartily at the stunned look on Charlie's face. "Careful, Charlie, she's a Parseltongue."

 

Charlie looked even more smitten, and in another lifetime Miranda could have seen herself wholeheartedly engaging in a round of flirtation with him. He laughed heartily, ”Is that so, think you could teach me anything?"

 

Miranda smiled, and committed herself to one evening where she let the naive girl out, the one who knew too much and at the same time knew far too little, the one who had been perilously close to losing her mind and too obliviated to know it. ”I might be able to teach you a thing or two. It might be helpful to you. I bet you didn't know that snakes and dragons speak the same language. Did you?"

 

Fleur called them into the living room and Charlie led her there by the arm. "I don't think I've ever heard that."

 

She nodded, "It's completely true. I actually wanted a dragon as a pet when I was a child, but you can't command a dragon to do anything they don't want to do, even if you can speak a language they speak. So, my father made me settle for a goldfish that blew colored bubbles. It was almost as entertaining, and much, much easier to care for."

 

The residents of the room broke into laughter, and it made Miranda feel better to know that the sense of humor Walburga had always treasured in her was still there despite living in such gloomy times.

 

"Dragons speak more than one language?" Bill asked when the table had calmed.

 

"Dragons are very smart, they can understand many languages, but can only speak a handful. I encountered a few on travels with my Papa and they've fascinated me ever since. The lore is very extensive." Charlie put a hold on his flirting and the two spent the evening discussing dragons.

 

When she had had her fill of Fleur's French brewed tea, Miranda stood, "I'd best be on my way. I wouldn't want to wake Molly or the others by getting in too late."

 

"I'll get the floo powder." Bill said.

 

Miranda hugged Ron, whispering into his ear, "Last chance, Ron. Are you sure you don't want to come?"

 

"I'm sure." He said, sighing, "I just need some time."

 

"Ron, you don't tell a girl like that no!" Charlie exclaimed. He held Miranda's hand, kissing it again, "I'll come with you if you want."

 

She shook her head but laughed good-naturedly, "Although I'm sure traveling with you wouldn't be anything less than exhilarating, I'm afraid that the invitation must be extended solely to your youngest brother."

 

He sighed dramatically, "One day, I'll take you to see my dragons. Perhaps you could talk some sense into my Horntail."

 

"It would be my pleasure." She said, giving Fleur a hug.

 

Bill held the box of powder out to her, and she took a handful.

 

"Goodbye, Miranda. Watch after Harry and 'Mione for me, won't you?" Ron said, for the first time looking unsure about his decision.

 

Miranda fixed him with a strict glare, standing in front of the fireplace, floo powder in her hands, "I will, but not for you, for them."

 

"I'll come back, I promise, just not yet." He said, sounding like he was more trying to convince himself than Miranda.

 

She sighed before she threw the powder into the fire. "If you're not careful, Ron, you might never find your way back."

 

He looked stricken, but she ignored him, shouting, "The Burrow!"

 

She stumbled out of the fireplace in a rather ungraceful manner, her bag full of cleaned clothes cushioning her fall. "Back so soon?" Said a gruff voice.

 

Miranda stood, straightening her dress, "Hello, Remus. Don't worry, you won't have to look at me for long."

 

"Why not?" He asked, his voice softer.

 

"I'm going back to the forests. I figure no one knows who I am, I can search a little deeper, ask a few more questions." She explained simply.

 

"Makes sense. When you see Harry again, could you tell him..." Remus seemed to be having a hard time getting out what he wanted to say, and it made Miranda have to stifle the urge to cry for him. Or maybe the urge to cry was her own? She had no idea.

 

"What Remus? What do you want me to tell Harry?" She urged, putting a hand on his shoulder.

 

Remus gave her a broken smile, "I have a son."

 

"Is he healthy?" She asked gently, trying to gauge his feelings about being a father.

 

A tear fell from his eye, catching in the scruff on his face, "He's human. He took after Tonks."

 

Miranda smiled, a pang of envy hitting her unexpectedly. ”Congratulations then. What is his name?"

 

"Teddy. Teddy Lupin. After Tonks' father." He said with a chocked laugh.

 

Miranda hugged him briefly, "Tonks is well then?"

 

Remus managed a pleased smile, "Yes, she's with him at her parents house. The full moon is tonight, I came here before I head to the packs."

 

"Peace to you and your new family. I will tell Harry your news." Miranda said.

 

"Thank you." Remus said, and Miranda stood up, feeling like she had been dismissed.

 

She hesitated though, “Do you know anything about creatures that can live inside witches or wizards? Dark creatures?”

 

“Besides the lycanthropy curse or normal muggle parasites?” He asked.

 

Miranda nodded, trying not to look at him, “Something that the victim might not be aware of though it’s tied to their emotions. Something that kills them when they’re young.”

 

He frowned at her, “What you’re describing sounds like an Obscurus. Essentially a physical manifestation of a magical child’s uncontrollable or repressed magic. The child dies, consumed by his or her own power. There haven’t been reports of an Obscurial in several lifetimes though. Why are you asking about it?”

 

“Curious.” Miranda choked out, running from the room. She just couldn’t handle any questions. She had a name now. She was an Obscurial, and she should have been long dead twice over.

 

She met Molly by the front door, collecting some of Hermione's things, and telling her goodbye before walking to the edge of the wards and apparating in the darkness to the forest where she had left Harry and Hermione. She expected the vast emptiness of the trees, but what she didn't expect was the warm body that slammed into hers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the Kudos and comments, they mean a lot to me!  
> -Jenn


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